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unknownjpegs · 11 months ago

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touch-up

His hair grows. Benji cuts it for him.

“Bold fucking thing to say,” Benji snarks at him after a nasty joke at Benji’s expense. He scruffs Maran by the back of his t-shirt, gives him a shake that makes him jostle and laugh dramatically. “Could fuck your shit up right now, if I wanted.”

The clippers are to the back of Maran’s neck, cold metal warmed by carefully repeated swipes over skin. They’re halfway done, but Benji could finish it right here. Leave him a partial mess: Maran’s criminally, terminally awful at giving himself a trim. Plus, this is part of the ritual.

“You won’t,” he chirps confidently, stuffing another fistful of crisps into his mouth. “Love me too much. And besides, you’ll have to be seen with me. Too much second-hand embarrassment for you to handle, Benj.”

He gets a soft, teasing swat to the back of his prickly scalp for that. It knocks a startled laugh out of him, mouth falling open so that a crumb drops into the dye on the table. Benji’s mixed it, but he’s got a shit eye for it so it’s a nasty yellow-green. Probably will clash something awful with his skin — doesn’t matter. It’ll grow out, and they’ll do this all again.

His hair grows out.

Not just the slight, gentle beginning of tight curls at his scalp, but proper growth. Starts to touch his ears, which is the absolute final straw. Except he’s shit at trimming it himself, and Benji — Benji…

His hair grows out, and Benji isn’t around to cut it, and Maran tries. He really, really does.

Benji tries as well, even though these days it seems like he doesn’t have to try for much at all.

Because Benji has always been brutal, but he comes back as something else entirely. brutal. They’d both had a bit of a tough go at life: doing what they do with the knowledge they’ve got from the age they’d started (too young). The safety of humanity at what cost, a lost childhood, crushing responsibility, blah blah. Maran’s gone through that spiral enough in his short time alive to be tired of it.

So no, the brutality isn’t what gets him.

It’s how much more often, how much easier, Benji seems to find it. Tap in. Go elsewhere. Be…something. Maran has to work to get there. Has to pause before a punch, wind down the guilt and fear and sickness in his gut to make himself shed blood. Gets easier every time, and that’s what he’s scared of.

The ease is what scares him. Less than the snarl of a sharp fang, the crunch and squish of flesh — the lack of effort.

And he sees that it scares Benji, too.

They give it a try a few times, and each is…not awkward, not really. It’s easy. Always is, with Benji. Always will be. But it’s never been easy like it is with — this new existence. If it can be called that.

It frightens him. He would never admit that. He can imagine the look on Benji’s face if those words found their way up. If the truth sprung forth.

You scare me, Benji.

Makes him think, makes him consider things, makes him wonder. Mostly it makes him fear. He’s frightened by the tight, thoughtful, shamed pull of Benji’s brow when he twists a head from the body. When he licks blood off his fingers without a second fucking thought. When he puts too much power in a swing, moves too fast, reacts like a predatory thing instead of the prey they’ve always been together. Together.

Maran’s scared. Regardless, Maran tries. In the end, it’s not enough effort.

Or, honestly, maybe in the end it’s that he also finds it easy. That there’s no effort in looking at Benji and flinching.

“Got something,” Benji says one evening, gesturing to his temple. They’ve finished clearing an old warehouse that a nasty little trio of ferals has been inhabiting. Maran thinks they’re feral, anyway. Forces himself to think it. Kinda has to blur where that line spreads, because otherwise the look of fear in crimson eyes is recognizable. Relatable. . He knows how sour and encompassing fear feels, when it seems inescapable. It makes him as nauseous as the milky haze corpse-white glaze over one of their victims.

And fear is what he feels now, staring at his best friend.

Benji reaches up, jacket tucked around his fist. Reaches up towards his face, where Maran knows he’s only going for a streak of blood across his cheekbone, splattered over the fuzz on his scalp. It’s Benji. He’ll just brush it away, clean it off. But it’s not Benji, is it? Not really. Not him. Can’t be. Doing this, looking like that, tearing things apart, being a monster —

Maran flinches.

And Maran goes back to their flat alone, tears in his eyes as he opens the door. Because Benji’s not trailing loudly behind him. Not kicking his shoes messily at the wall. Not complaining about sore muscles or whinging about needing a smoke.

Maran had flinched. Benji had frozen. And Maran couldn’t look at his face after that. Head turned to the side, eyes pointed at the ground and squeezed shut. Prepared for a blow. Anticipating the pain.

When he’d opened them, Benji was gone.

Maran tried. He really, really had.

His hair grows out. He cuts it himself, and it looks absolutely terrible.

Could fuck your shit up.

In a lot of ways, he stops trying. Benji is still gone. Flat is still half-empty. Maran fully alone.

Well. Not fully. Just…mostly.

He’s not fully rotting, at least. Not autopilot through jobs he probably shouldn’t be taking alone. Has other hunters to run with now. Has friends, maybe.

Lark opens the door with a grin, little shrug of his shoulder. Come on in, which is a funny sort of invitation to get from a vampire. And it’s a funny way for Maran to think of one in the first place, right? Because Lark’s friendly, fanged smile is all it takes for Maran to amend it to friends, definitely. Alone, until —

“Been at it?” Maran asks, gesturing to the mess of the living room. The shit coffee table has been upended and the couch cushions have gone flying all over. There’s a spilled Coke can on the ground, puddle of dark amber liquid soaking into the couch.

“Xavier.” Lark says, rolling his eyes. The single word is a complete essay. “And —”

“Ben.”

They share an exasperated grin. It feels like more. Like sharing an inside joke. You get it, I get it, we’re understanding this together. Maran’s not watching the loop close. He’s a link in the chain. Hanging around more often.

“Where—” he starts to ask, except Lark’s already sticking his thumb over his shoulder.

“Just missed him. Went down to the corner for snacks.” He moves further into the flat, and Maran follows slowly as the space is made. A little wariness around Lark, even now — some habits are hard to break.

He nods, looks haltingly at the couch, feels his cheeks heating when the vampire laughs.

“Man, what have I told you?” Lark nudges him in the shoulder. No effort, but no strength to it either. Lark holds back, and Maran barely moves because it’s a gentle touch.

Lark holds back. Because it’s Maran, and he’s human, and Lark doesn’t want to hurt him. Because they’re friends.

Maran blinks. The vampire misreads it, can’t hear the great thundering of an important realization as it bounces around Maran’s skull. He gets another scoffing laugh for his silence.

“Mar,” he says affectionately, “go chill , ‘kay? I’m going out, but Benny’ll be back any second.” He holds out a fist, which Maran bumps absent-mindedly. “See you.”

“Right, yeah. See ya.” Maran responds, staring down at the grocery sack he’d brought along. Filled with his wallet, a few plastic containers of dye at varying fullness, and a pair of clippers. Benji had bought them for him. Birthday gift, along with a rainbow array of dye and some reusable gloves.

Bin that disposable razor, mate. He can hear Benji’s airless, throaty laugh in his head. Your mum’ll kill me if she knew I was letting you roam about like some reject Trolls doll.

He falls asleep like that, fist clenched around the handles of the bag. He doesn’t dream, but he wakes. Intended it to be just a nap that he’d get woken from. But when he wakes up, no afternoon light spills through the curtains. In fact, it’s gone fully dark out — and right hen, as he’s rubbing his temple, is when retro cat clock goes off. He’d bought it as a gift for Xavier, partially because the noise was so fucking grating.

Backfires now, thought. His ears ring.

“Fucking hell.” Maran sighs, tossing the bag to the ground. He drops back against the couch, heels of his hands digging into his eye sockets until color bursts.

“Losing it?”

Maran jumps, sitting upright as his head whips to the side.

Benny’s stood at the end of the couch. Looks like trouble, as always: ready-to-run slouch, a single eyebrow quirked, that signature grin on his face. Maran watches as he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it over the designated coat chair — the one Xavier’s always snipping at them to keep clear.

“Ah — huh?” He blinks up at the other man.

“Once y-you start talking to yourself, there’s no going b-back.”

Benny drops a handful of chocolates into Maran’s lap — little silver foil wrapped ones. Benji calls it cheap, shit chocolate, but he likes them. Seems to be common knowledge.

He pops one into his mouth. Their knees knocked together as Benny sits next to him, arm slung over the back of the couch. Maran holds another up.

“Thanks. Was I talking in my sleep?”

Benny pauses a moment as he gets comfortable, then shrugs. “N-Not much. Nothing philosophical, don’t worry.”

Maran grins broadly. “Mate, trust me. Was not fuckin’ worried about that.” He deliberates over one of the chocolates before downing another two. “You knew I like these.”

It’s not quite a question, not quite an observation. Even if he isn’t waiting on an answer, Benny gives him one.

“Y-You got habits.”

It makes him grin wider, hearing something like that. He doesn’t think he has habits, but he supposes they might be obvious to someone else, if he’s being watched. He likes the idea of that. Being watched, having things that people pick up on, that they notice. Being watched, being understood.

Lark isn’t interested when Maran’s introducing Xavier to binges of classic anime, but he does sneak peeks if their choice is some shit reality show. And even though Xavier can’t talk books, he’ll light up mega-watt bright if Maran dumps about his console repair side hustle, and listens when he talks about weapon mods.

Lark likes gossip more than he cares to admit, Xavier’s got a brain for detail and the mechanics, and Benny — well, Benny’s got a lot of those things. Habits.

Maran is thinking of several, becomes suddenly aware that he’s drifted, that he’s staring. He blinks several times, shakes his head and offers a sheepish laugh.

“Sorry.” Hand up at his temple, he whistles.

Benny stares back, eyebrows raised. And Maran means to respond, but he feels thick-tongued suddenly. Even more so the longer Ben holds his gaze, expression flat as he works a toothpick between his teeth. Maran swallows, gestures again, feels stupid and strange.

“M-man, you are out of it today.” Benny notes, that jittery laugh cracking out of him. “Head wound?”

He slumps back against the couch with a heavy sigh. “Feels fuckin’ like it.”

“Should p-probably hold off on all that,” Benny teases, nudging the bag by their feet. “Ch-chemicals’ll seep into your fucking dome. Eat up all the b-brain cells you have left.”

Maran gives him a sneer, lip curled dramatically. Ben laughs, and that dry mouthed feeling comes back. He’s getting sick. Allergies, maybe?

“Earth to Maran. I said: who was gonna dye it for you?”

“Huh? Uh…no one.”

A beat.

“I’ll d-do it then. Save you the embarrassment of a shitty mirror-over-the-shoulder job.”

Another beat. Underneath the silence, Maran’s stomach clenches.

“All right. Can we order somethin’, though?” He follows a glance over to the counter, where a few bags of snack food from the convenience store sit. He pouts. “Naw, like. Nachos or something. Ooh. Or that pizza place? S’only a block — c’mon, I’ll call if you drive?”

Benny lasts longer against the eager, poking onslaught fingers that land on his arm, his side. And when he finally sighs — that I give up sort that means Maran’s pleaded his case proper — Maran responds with a whooping, dramatic cheer.

“She’s h-how old?”

“When she wins this tournament? Thirteen.” Maran answers around a mouthful of food. He smacks his hand down on his thigh, rubs the nacho cheese off on the napkin Benny had insisted on him taking.

Maran is sat on the ground, his knees tucked up to push against the coffee table. They act as a table for the aluminum take-out container, which is so heavy it threatens to upend if he eats too much off one side.

Benny’s picking at his own food slow, on account for the trim and gloves on his hands, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s engrossed with the process, now. After the shave had come the deliberation over color, Maran’s toothy grin when he’d insisted on Ben mixing him something custom out of the options.

(“You choose!” He’d chirped, plopping himself happily — with food and beverage in either hand — on the floor between Benny’s knees.)

He’d snuck a glimpse of the color in the glass bowl: dark, midnight blue. So deep a navy it looked black.

“I wasn’t expecting you to like this so much.” Maran shares, his eyes bouncing between either side of the screen. The soon-to-be-champion, a girl whose big brown eyes bug out from beneath he glasses, lands a nasty combo on her opponent. Maran jerks and cheers, fist pumping the air.

“Jesus — careful.” Ben’s fingers wrap around his shoulder, squeezing. His thumb digs into a spot on Maran’s neck that feels — he freezes in place, back straightening.

“Sorry.” Maran clips out, staring straight ahead.

He no longer watches the movements of the fighting game characters on the screen. But…looks through it, eyes feeling too wide in his skull. After Benny carefully cleans up his hairline with a rag (fingers on the back of an ear causing his jaw to clench, his stomach to flip, to wonder maybe if the nachos were sitting wrong) they sit there in comfortable silence. He hears the occasional plastic click of the vape he’s trying to cajole out of Benny’s grasp, but not much else. Not the progress of the world’s youngest tournament winner, not even Ben’s own loud cheer when she finally brings home the last round to solidify that title.

Right as the Youtube video ends, a shrill beep makes Maran jump in place, shoulders up to his ears. It’s not Xavier’s shitty fucking clock — it’s the timer on his own phone.

“L-looks good. You g-gonna need help to wash it?“

“ThanksIcandoit!” Maran says. Except…actually, he sort of shouts, doesn’t he? His ears burn as he leaps to his feet, fists clenched at his side as he marches towards the bathroom as quickly as his feet will take him.

The dye sits for another five minutes because he’s busy staring in the mirror, splashing water on his face, staring at the mirror, splash, stare, breathe, stare.

And he only remember to wash it out when he drops his head back against the closed door. There’s a blue circle, like a painted sponge had been pressed against it. Later on, he’ll realize he secretly enjoyed leaving it, in a way — proof that he’d been there, in the home of people he cared about, and someone had known him enough to pick a color they thought was beautiful.

Months later, when things have been repaired between them to the point that Benji will let him doze on his (cold, still) chest again, Maran feels fingers touch across his scalp.

“Shit’s busted,” Benji teases softly, plucking at a tight curl and pulling into it springs back into place. There’s no gaming tournament on in the background — instead they watch some punk documentary that Maran will never admit is absolutely fucking boring.

“Fuck you.” Maran mumbles, cheek smushed against his shoulder. “Your shit’s busted. Clown.”

“You’re gonna need a touch-up soon here, mate. Like, really, proper busted.” Another pull of his hair, so Maran slaps at his wrist until he yelps. “Be mean n’ I won’t bother.”

“Don’t, then.” Maran snipes back. “Found a new hair guy, anyway.”

Benji pauses. The documentary seems to grow louder, louder, until Maran realizes his heart has kicked up. That the background whoosh is his blood in his ears.”

“Oh did you?” Benji asks in a nasty voice, pushing Maran off his chest as he sits up. “Fuckin’ hell, Mar, s’that so? You got somebody like that? Hm — lemme guess, yeah? Lemme guess who —“

He cuts off into insane laughter, yelping as Maran paws and swipes at him, loose fists thumping against his shoulders, his chest. He’s so strange and solid; not in the human way, anymore, but close enough that it’s still Benji. It’ll always be Benji, he knows. Proof to the fucking point: he gets under Maran’s skin all the same.

#writing #ua #mgc #jlb #bp #mgc x jlb #vampire au

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farmverse · 1 year ago

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andif i posted writing. what th

cw; adult discussing his own hypersexuality and as a teenager, mentions of teen pregnancy

“My history is… complicated,” he says lamely. His new jeans are still stiff. He hasn’t properly worn in his boots yet. His only options with his jacket are to keep it on or hold it in his lap, and his prosthetic makes taking it off and putting it back on easier said than done anyway, but it’s uncomfortably warm in the uncomfortably quiet room.

“What isn’t, these days?” The man sitting across from him reminds him almost of his mother. His laminated nametag reads Dr. Marvin Campbell, and his blond hair is starting to thin, covered with a white little hat that Farm forgets the name of. “With that Scarab guy showing up and attacking the city, I mean. Since then, nothing has been the same.”

Farm examines his fingernails. Over the years, he’s mastered the art of biting them cleanly and evenly, since he can’t hold a set of clippers with the claw of his prosthesis. “My complications go back further than that, I’m afraid. I’m… like that Scarab guy, in a way.”

“That’s right — you and your family came from another timeline…” Dr. Campbell’s fingers move lightning-quick over his exceedingly loud keyboard. Maybe the horrible sound is supposed to help him type faster. “Your original world had magic, didn’t it?”

“Not always.” Farm’s kids aren’t here, so he doesn’t bother censoring himself. “I didn’t fuck with it. Tried to stay as far away as I could. At first, I just didn’t believe in it, but…”

Boy, that old fartbag sure proved you wrong, huh!

Technically, the so-called “Vampire Queen” hadn’t done much. That had been Finn.

Farm.

The crown.

And me!

Farm flexes his left hand forcefully, then shakes it out in an attempt to banish his nerves. It sort of works. Almost.

“…It did some shit to me that I’ve… just had to learn to deal with. And I didn’t always do the best or smartest thing. I-I know that. But I’ve… I’ve done my best. Tried to give my kids a safe childhood. Keep them clothed and fed and happy.”

“And that’s commendable. You should be proud of that, Farm.”

He wants to believe it, but it feels empty.

“…But I’ve also done some things I’m not proud of.” He sighs heavily. “When I was a teenager, I put on a magic crown that granted me ice powers and fractured my psyche. I… hurt a lot of people. My own family included. And, afterwards, I made some particularly bad choices.” He shifts. “I think I felt like… I had ruined the morale of the people around me. So I had to boost it, somehow. And, one thing led to another…”

“What do you mean by that?”

“…Please don’t make me say it.”

“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page, here.”

Farm meets Dr. Campbell’s gaze, at once both reluctant and deliberate. “I told people to use me however they wanted. And they did. And I-” (Fuck, why is his throat choking?)

Dr. Campbell is so fucking patient. The look he’s giving Farm now is the same look Minerva Mertens gave him when he first tried to tell her at sixteen that she was going to be a grandmother. But he’d thrown up and stumbled out, and she had never known.

Deep breath. Slow down. Cool off. You got this.

When he tries to speak again, he manages to keep his voice level. “…I gave birth to my first son when I was seventeen. I still don’t know who his other parent is.”

There’s a brief pause before the next question. “How old is he now?”

The question nearly makes him flinch. Its silly, really. But he answers anyway, because to hide away from it would just be pathetic. “He’s almost fourteen. Does great in school, polite, good-hearted — he’s the reason we moved here, honestly. If he and Dez hadn’t snuck out, we’d probably all still be in Farmworld.”

“Farmworld?”

Farm blushes a little. “Uh, my original timeline.” He rubs the back of his neck, idly tucking his light hair back under his cap. “Fionna came up with the name, and it stuck.”

Dr. Campbell laughs. There’s a moment of recognition, like he’s just speaking with a friend’s father, before the veneer of professionalism goes back up over the conversation.

#yeah. um. no real plot. just a way to get my feelings out ig.#benefits of a creative system i guess?#there are so many small and dumb things hidden in here. anyway #farm speaking #farm tag #scrapbook #art time #fictblr

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hal-o-ween · 4 years ago

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I'm once again thinking about cutting my hair myself. I deserve to do something potentially really stupid to my hair at least once in my life. I think some day soon I might go buy some hair clippers so I'm not stuck just using scissors, and try to find videos or something that just go over basic tips for cutting your own hair

#like. if i fuck up really bad i CAN just shave it all off #im thinking about it tonight and like im almost 20 and ive never messed with my own hair? i never even cut a piece as a kid or anything #i want to try it. and i think clippers would make it easier to try fun stuff.#and its been quite a while since i got my hair cut too so it's growing out #still not certain what exactly i want to do with it. but i think i might just start woth trimming the sides or something.#rambles #im just such a coward with starting new things so i haven't done this yet dkdhdkgd #like i do this with so kamy things. i get super hesitant to start and then once i get going i actually really like it #or it at least isn't as bad as i thought #but i figure ive got a while before i have to he seen in public in any sort of professional setting. so why not #(i am trying to convince myself that this is a harmless idea)#also. if i do cut it a funky way and like it. i will probably dye it as well.#idk i guess i just really want to explore my style a bit and be adventurous with it

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edelweiss-coffee · 2 years ago

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Triple Dog, Chapter Two

chapter two is here <3 this is the most fun i've ever had writing a fic. enjoy!

ao3

“Who’s the next victim?” Will asked, arms outstretched.

“It’s Dustin’s turn to dare, he gets to pick.”

Will sat down on the couch, trying to make himself as small as possible. Mike shifted on the cushion next to him, refilling his cup with wine. Lucas sat back with a smile plastered on his face.

“Hold on, what time is it?” Dustin pointed at the boys, sipping from his cup, waiting for an answer.

“It’s uh, 8:12, why?” Mike muttered, checking his watch.

“Think Bradley’s is still open?”

“Yeah, they’re open til 10,” Lucas piped in.

Dustin rubbed his hands together, as if concocting a master plan.

“William Byers!”

Will hung his head in mock surrender.

“I Triple Dog dare you to steal something, anything, from Bradley’s Big Buy. But, bonus points if it’s something that takes two hands to carry.”

“Oh come on! I– I’m so clumsy, Dustin.”

Mike jumped up and grabbed the clippers from the table.

“Williammmmm,” he hummed, shaking the clippers at him through a smile.

“Fine, damn it. Bike light is out, though. We’re gonna need a flashlight. You guys are coming to watch me fail miserably, right? I’m probably gonna get arrested,” Will laughed.

“No, you’ve definitely got this, Byers,” Lucas reassured.

“Yeah, those puppy dog eyes’ll work on anyone,” Mike added.

Dustin patted Will on the back, handing him a new cup of wine.

“Drinking and driving might be illegal, but nobody said anything about bikes. This is for youuuu,” he sang. “Mike, go find a flashlight.”

As Mike ventured upstairs, Will took the cup from Dustin and downed it in seconds. The two boys looked at Will like he’d done something wrong.

Will checked over his shirt, his pants, and swiped his hand over his face.

“What? Did I spill it or something?”

“No, man,” Dustin laughed.

“Didn’t think you’d down it that fast,” Lucas added.

“It tastes like strawberries. I doubt there’s even that much alcohol in it, anyway,” he shrugged.

“Now, how are we planning to get out of here without getting caught? Anyone have a backpack I can use?”

Just as the boys began brainstorming, Mike made his way down the stairs with two flashlights.

“Mom and dad are in bed now. Should make this a little easier.”

“Oh, perfect,” Lucas beamed, cheeks shiny from the wine. “Here,” he sighed, tossing his backpack to Will.

“Guess we’re going to Bradleys, then. Will, this one’s for you. I used to attach it to my bike before I got the headlight attachment.” He handed Will a small, silver flashlight with rubber bands wrapped around it. “You gotta kinda wrap it around the handlebars, but it works.”

“Thanks,” Will smiled.

“This one’s for us. Someone’s gotta hold onto it, or we’re goin’ in blind,” Mike held the flashlight out to Dustin.

“Nice, nice. Okay, let’s go before Will gets his head shaved,” Lucas pressed.

The boys quietly stole up the stairs, and out into the garage. Will fashioned a nice headlight out of that tiny flashlight and rubber bands. Dustin and Lucas argued about who would have to hold the flashlight for the trio behind Will, and Dustin lost the fight.

The bike ride to Bradley’s was filled with laughter, nerves, and rushed breathing. It only took the boys around ten minutes to make it to the big glass windows of the store.

“Y’ready for this, Byers?” Dustin whispered excitedly.

“Ready as I can be, I guess, you dick,” Will joked back.

“Hey, Will. You’re totally good. You’ve got this. He said you could take anything, right? Don’t make it too hard,” Lucas encouraged.

“He’s fine, he can do it,” Mike sighed, meeting Will's eyes for a second.

Will dropped his bike on the sidewalk and walked in the automatic glass doors. The other boys watched through the window, curious what Will’s approach would be.

First, he kicked over the mop bucket next to the cash register. The boys laughed as he apologized to the cashier (“I’m so sorry, I’m such a klutz, I didn’t even see it there,”).

Then, he knocked over the magazine rack, and walked quickly and quietly in the opposite direction.

Outside, the trio was holding back tears from laughing so hard at the fiasco going on indoors.

“What the fuck is going on in there right now?”

“Has he done this before?”

“No, definitely not. No way.”

Will burst through the door carrying a case of glass 7Up bottles.

“Go! C’mon, go,” he whispered, emptying his pockets into the backpack. He walked his bike to the side of the store while shaking the box of bottles into the bag, too. He set the empty cardboard case gently on the sidewalk.

“Sorry,” he huffed, looking back at Bradley’s.

The boys ahead of him nearly fell off their bikes with laughter.

“Sorry?! Will, you stole their whole stock of 7Up,” Dustin cackled.

Catching up to the boys, Will took a deep breath.

“I got more than just the soda,” he smiled proudly.

“You what? Will!” Mike swerved, trying and failing to make eye contact with the other boy.

“You’ll see when we get back.”

– – – – – –

The boys plopped onto the couch, excited to see what else Will managed to nick from Bradley’s.

“Well, let’s see the riches you’ve got in your knapsack, then, Byers,” Mike teased.

“Okay, well. The sodas are for Mike, but there’s enough for everyone,” Will sighed, pulling the green glass bottles from the bag.

“Aw, thanks, Will,” Mike cooed, blinking a few extra times. His cheeks flushed pink and he toyed with his hair.

“Dustin, I got you some Three Musketeers, ‘cause I know they’re your favorite,” Will said, tossing four chocolate bars at his friend.

“How did you manage to– Actually, I’m not even gonna question it. Thanks, man,” Dustin smiled into his lap.

“And Lucas, you get a New Coke and this little rubber band slingshot I found by the counter,” Will beamed. He tossed the boy his gifts.

“I think Will wins Triple Dog,” Lucas said.

Dustin bit into one of his prize chocolate bars. Mike’s smile shone brighter than it had all night.

“You’re the best, Will,” he uttered.

“Oh thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night,” Will joked.

They spent a good twenty minutes in the basement after that, drinking 7Up and brainstorming about their next escapade.

#byler #triple dog #byler fic #byler fanfic #byler fanfiction #og party

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sdvvillagers · 4 years ago

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Fic - Jodi and Gus

Word Count: 1,516

Summary: Jodi never intended to be the unofficial barber in Pelican Town, it just... happened.

Notes: Thank you to @floopthecooper for the prompt!

Jodi was never sure exactly when it was she became Pelican Town’s unofficial barber. It just sort of happened over time. Slowly more residents in town came to her for their haircuts and before she knew it, she was cutting the hair of almost every person in town. Word of mouth spread in a place like Pelican Town. Though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she got the reputation around town as the unofficial barber, she could at least pinpoint exactly when it all began. It had been a cool spring morning, not long after she, Kent, and Sam had moved to Pelican Town. Jodi had always been the one to cut Sam’s hair, it was always so much easier and more affordable to do it herself and it wasn’t all that difficult. She’d never had any formal training, just a few attempts of trial and error, maybe a bad haircut or two for Sam, but she ended up figuring it out along the way.

Whenever possible, Jodi tried to cut Sam’s hair outdoors. It made less of a mess inside the house and was easier to clean up. Jodi had sat Sam down outside, covering his shoulders and back with a towel, before starting up the clippers to give his hair a trim. It was about halfway through the haircut when the local saloon owner, Gus, passed by their house on his way to visit the house nextdoor. Jodi waved politely, though she still didn’t know him all that well. Jodi never found herself visiting the saloon, she always prepared homecooked meals and wasn’t a drinker, so there was just no need. Still, if this was going to be her family’s new home for quite some time, she wanted to be sociable. When she waved, Gus stopped walking and waved in return. The large, welcoming smile on his face seemed genuine and his eyes were soft and kind.

“Hi there, Jenny!” Gus greeted her happily.

“It’s Jodi,” Jodi corrected him with a nervous giggle. Gus slapped the palm of his hand hard against his forehead.

“Sheesh, what a knucklehead,” Gus muttered to himself. “My apologies, Jodi. And this here must be Samson.”

“Yes, though he prefers to go by Sam,” Jodi answered, already smiling and waving her hand dismissively for the apology she knew was going to come. Sure enough, Gus looked mortified.

“Two for two, I’m usually so much better than this,” Gus replied apologetically. “Sorry for the mixup, I promise it won’t happen again.”

“No apologies necessary,” Jodi assured him.

“So I’m sorry to bother you, but uh… I couldn’t help but notice that you’re cutting the little one’s hair,” Gus pointed out, tilting his head curiously. Sam cringed on the spot at being called ‘the little one’.

“Oh, am I not supposed to be doing that outside?” Jodi asked nervously. “I was hoping the breeze wouldn’t blow the hair around, I apologize. I can move this indoors if it’s bothersome.”

“No, not at all!” Gus replied, shaking his head. “I was only asking because… well, I hope this doesn’t come across as odd, but… is that something you do for a living or just for your son?”

“Just for my son,” Jodi answered. “I’ve been cutting his hair since he was about three years old. Cheaper that way.”

“I hear you,” Gus replied, nodding. “Haircuts can be so expensive. Even worse when we have to travel all the way to Grampleton once or twice a season for it. It ends up costing a fortune when you consider the cost of the haircut plus transportation and in the amount of time it takes, you usually need to grab lunch while you’re there. It ends up being a whole day trip just to get half an inch trimmed off my hair.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Jodi remarked, feeling a bit guilty. Between cutting Sam’s and Kent’s hair herself, plus trying her best to trim her own, she hadn’t had to take any of her family to get a haircut in quite some time.

“I guess I was just wondering if I could ask you… sheesh, I feel bad even asking, but… would I be able to ask you for a haircut?” Gus asked nervously. “I’ve been putting it off for over a week now and it would be so much easier if I could get it done and over with here.”

“I don’t know,” Jodi answered uncertainly, her eyes darting back and forth to avoid seeing any disappointment in Gus’ face. His kindness and personable nature made it difficult to disappoint him.

“I would pay you a fair rate,” Gus clarified.

“Oh no, it’s not that,” Jodi assured him. “It’s not the money issue, it’s just that I’m not exactly a trained professional. I never went to school for this or anything, I just have what I picked up over the years from trial and error with Sam. I’d be nervous about messing up or not being able to cut it the way you want it to be. I’d never forgive myself if I gave you a bad haircut.”

“I promise you I’m an easy customer,” Gus remarked with a light-hearted chuckle. “I’m not picky at all. I could walk out of here with a bowl cut and still be okay, I just need this hair a bit shorter. Too much hair in my eyes drives me nuts.”

“I really don’t know, I’m not qualified,” Jodi went on, swaying uncertainly on the spot as she mulled it over in her mind. “You’re sure you wouldn’t mind if I completely mangled your hair?”

Gus stepped closer to the porch and took a look at Sam’s hair which was halfway through being cut, looked thoughtfully, and nodded. Poor Sam sat awkwardly in the chair, fidgeting as some stranger gawked at him and his hair.

“From what I can tell, I highly doubt you’ll mangle it,” Gus said kindly. “I’m willing to take the risk, but only if you are. I’d never want to pressure you to do it if you’re uncomfortable, though.”

“I’m certainly happy to give it a try,” Jodi replied optimistically. “I’ve never cut anyone’s hair besides my son’s and my husband’s. I suppose if it would save you the trouble and you’re willing to live with the results, I’ll give it a try. No charge, though, especially since I’m just winging it.”

“No deal, then,” Gus replied seriously. “I won’t take something for nothing, especially not from a working mother.”

“Oh, I don’t work,” Jodi corrected Gus.

“You don’t?” Gus asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. “You don’t cook? Clean? Organize? Plan? Provide care? Teach? You don’t do any of that?”

“Well that’s diff-” Jodi began, but Gus cut in.

“Moms have the hardest job of all, in my opinion,” Gus went on, smiling warmly at Jodi. “Don’t tell me you don’t work when you’ve got more jobs than any of the rest of us. Yes, I’m paying you for your work.”

It was incredible how warm Jodi felt while Gus spoke, she could feel her cheeks flushing at his comments and it made her feel more validated and understood than she’d felt in quite some time. Too often her role was diminished or looked down upon, it was nice for someone to notice and appreciate her value as a stay at home mom.

“Thank you,” Jodi giggled nervously, turning her head slightly to try and hide her blushing cheeks. “Just let me know when you want that haircut.”

“The saloon opens in two hours, I doubt there’s any chance you can do it before then?”

“I could probably get started in about fifteen minutes,” Jodi estimated. “Just gotta finish with Sam first but I could cut your hair right afterwards. Might as well as long as I’ve got everything out.”

“Perfect, that gives me plenty of time to stop by your nextdoor neighbor’s house for a quick chat,” Gus remarked thoughtfully. “Both of their daughters’ birthdays are in spring, so they called me over to talk about ordering a cake for them.”

“You’re a bartender, chef, and baker?” Jodi asked, nodding at Gus with an impressed grin.

“You’re not the only one juggling a lot of jobs,” Gus replied playfully. “Thanks again for the haircut, I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet until after it’s done,” Jodi teased. “See you in a little bit.”

“See you then,” Gus replied, waving to Jodi as he continued on his way down the path to the house nextdoor.

At least that’s how it began, one small favor for the kind bartender in town in his time of need. Yet by the time fall rolled around, Jodi was cutting hair at least three times a week and had never been sure how it snowballed that way. What she hadn’t learned yet, but would learn during her time in Pelican Town, was that everyone in town loved and respected Gus. And when he gushed to a saloon full of patrons about his fantastic haircut from the new woman in town, people listened.

#sdv #stardew valley #sdv jodi #sdv gus #sdv villagers #my fic

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fruitless-vain · 3 years ago

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Day 12 recap:

Booked his vet appointment, they’re super open to going super slow and making everything as positive as possible so I’m excited to get that experience in and done. It’s the same vet that Yosh had last time which was just so patient and really focused on Yo being happy, taking play breaks with her between each step so I’m really hoping Sham likes her as well.

Bit of a chaotic morning with his anxiety being pretty high today but by noon he had totally calmed down and was honestly the best he’s ever been. Don’t know why the anxiety was so high, chalking it up to still adjusting to a new life for now. Things like that aren’t going to progress in a linear way.

Still massively struggling with his potty training, having to now close the basement door until he’s actually gone outside or else he is going to do everything downstairs. He did eat breakfast today so hopefully his digestive tract can start to get on to a more solid routine and make this whole process easier.

Barked at a neighbour, not sure why? I’m mostly chalking it up to his anxiety since this backyard time was in the middle of that anxiety spike. he’s heard loads of neighbours, cars, and clattering in the yard with no issues before today. This person wasn’t even making sounds, didn’t talk, didn’t do anything loud, they were just walking in their yard behind ours, he fixated and did one solid bark, I ended up having to pull him away because he would not disengage for treats or anything else. Gave him a minute to calm + refocus before trying again and then he was totally fine with the person being there. Something to keep an eye on for sure

Did a MASSIVE brush with him, back combed his entire left side with the dry shampoo he passed the fuck out, even got deep in his booty fluff and all around his neck completely back combed row by row. Got a good bunch of tangles out and a good chunk of loose fur AND cleared out some dirt hiding in the undercoat. That one side of him is so so fluffy and light now. He didn’t want me doing the other side as in depth so it just got a flat comb with a bit of shampoo. Thinking we’ll be able to do a sponge bath with actual shampoo soon, just damp cloths + a bucket in the kitchen probably.

Nails???????????? I was only going to show him the clippers + the sounds they make but he let me trim his entire front right paw? I probably could have kept going but I stopped myself so we don’t make this a bad experience at all. I did not trim them super short, tbh I was afraid of trimming the quick and immediately making nail trimming a bad experience even though his nails are crystal clear. I just do not use actual clippers very often so I am less confident with my closeness to the quick for sure.

Door protocol!!!!!! If I go inside first and just stand for a minute he will walk all the way in and come right to me for pets and affection! Still needs a few repetitions going in and out with me moving the door to shut it little bits at a time but he’s fully choosing to enter without food all on his own accord today.

Short muzzle session just focusing on duration still. Definitely understanding the game, still working on consistent 3 seconds since he’s been lifting his head or pulling out every now and then. Trying really hard not to move too fast . I’m finding that exceptionally hard to do when I’m working with Yo who can fully wear it after 5 minutes of seeing the muzzle for the first time in her life. Moving to him right after is a big mental switch around for me. Need to move slow. He doesn’t have that same established communication yet. Slow. Down.

Evening has been really good, passed the heck out during his alone time. No whining for any reason except when I was doing dishes. He started whining because I was moving around too much and he wanted me to sit down so he could sleep against my leg 🥺

Up and down day but definitely a load of positives!!

#sham recap #I have been wearing three layers of everything just so I’m warm enough to stay outside #and build that comfort coming in properly #I cannot express how cold of a process this has been #or how much laundry I have been doing #it’ll be worth it though #he’s doing really well

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skyemak · 4 years ago

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Cater Gets a New Do

Cater stood under one of the various trees of the courtyard. His hands were deep in his pockets as he swayed heel to toe. As a cool breeze brushed his skin, the leaves above him rustled slightly. Again, Cater glanced around the courtyard, and looked behind the tree. With a sigh, he pulled out his phone from his pocket, both to check the time and to check for any Magicam notifications. Recently there hasn’t been much going on at Night Raven College nor at his dorm. It was about two days since his last post, which was unlike him. However, he felt a sort of creative block recently, and no matter how many selfies or pics he took, he didn’t feel they were up-to-par to post to Magicam.

“Oh, Cater-senpai, what’re you doing here?”

Cater glanced up from his phone, a relaxed smile appeared on his face when he saw his familiar underclassman. “Hiya Ace-chan!” He raised his hand by his face, making a peace sign. “Yuu asked me to meet her here after school—said she wanted to ask me something. I wonder what it is~”

“Heh, I think that’s obvious.” A smug smile grew on Ace’s face.

“Hm?” Cater dropped his hand to rest on his side. “What’re you thinking, Ace-chan?”

“Nothing~ Just get ready for a new confess tag to post on Magicam,” Ace chuckled to himself, strolling away.

Cater blinked and looked down at his phone screen before quickly shutting off the screen. He grabbed a piece of his hair with his thumb and finger as he stored his phone back into his pocket. “Heh, as if.” But his mind began to wonder.

This school is surrounded by boys, so it’d be no surprise if Yuu-chan got a crush on someone.

She hangs out with the Adeuce combo a lot, so I’d first guess she’d like one of them.

Ah, but they’re not the brightest crayons in the crayon box.

As a human, Yuu-chan would probably prefer another human so they’d be more compatible. At NRC, that would leave Heartslyabyul, Pomefiore, and Scarabia.

Pomefiore is kinda intense in their own way.

I heard a lot happen as Scarabia…

Well, a lot happened since Riddle’s overblot too…

Now that I think about it, Yuu-chan always smiles in the morning when she sees me. It probably isn’t much though since I’m always acting peppy anyway.

Cater used his index finger to lightly twirl his hair in thought.

…But if she did confess… What would I say?

His ears tinted pink as he glanced down. The beat of his heart quickened slightly.

Well, I admit Yuu-chan is a little cute.

Another breeze flew by, rustling the leaves of the tree he stood by. Cater glanced up the wood. Soon the season will be changing, which will probably give Cater better potential selfies for his Magicam account.

“Senpai!” a voice yelled in the distance. Cater immediately turned his head toward its source and saw Yuu running toward him. “I’m sorry for making you wait!” she exclaimed. Yuu approached, stopping a few feet in front of him, out of breath. She slouched over with her hands on her thighs, trying to catch her breath. “Trein-sensei made me stay late since I did so bad on his last test…” she whined. Cater chuckled, “Heheh, Trein-sensei can be quite strict. I know all too well.”

After a few moments to balance her breathing, Yuu heaved a sigh and stood straight up. She looked directly toward Cater with a determined look in her eyes. “Anyway, senpai!” Cater flinched. Abruptly, he felt his chest tighten. He glanced away from her. “Y-Yeah?”

Yuu grabbed Cater’s hand and held it gently in both of hers. “Senpai, I need you!” she exclaimed.

“Huh?!” Cater erupted. “M-Me?” He couldn’t help but notice how soft her hands felt against his.

Is…Is she really gonna confess?!

Okay, she is more than a little cute now that I see her more closely.

We could also post couple-y photos on Magicam.

I can see the comments now. “OMG so cute!” “I’m so jelly I wanna boyfriend/girlfriend~” “You two look so cute together!”

Wait, I need to consider her feelings too!

Ah, but she would probably expect me to wanna take selfies together.

Wait again, what about when she goes back to her world?!

“Senpai?” Yuu asked innocently, still holding his hand. He snapped back to reality.

“Ahhhh! Fine! Okay! I’ll do it!”

“Yay! Uh, Senpai, why is your face red? Are you feeling okay?”

Cater covered his face with one hand, looking toward the ground. The sound of his heartbeat rang through his ears. “I-I’m fine…” he muttered.

“Great!” Yuu smiled. “Can we do it at your room then?”

“…Huh?”

“I think I could also use two of your clones for it.”

“What?!”

-----

Yuu opened a tote bag swung over her shoulder and began to set out various hairbrushes, a curling iron, flat iron, and other hair products on Cater’s dresser. Cater stood by, watching her bring the products out. He timidly put his hands together and covered his nose and mouth with them.

She… She just wants to practice different hair styles on me…

“Cater-senpai, would you sit here?” Yuu beckoned. Cater twitched a bit in surprise. He looked over and saw her gesture toward a chair, holding a salon cape. “Y-Yeah.” He stepped forward, plopping down on the chair.

“By the way, Yuu-chan.”

“Hm?” she asked, pulling the cape around him to clip.

“Why me…exactly?”

“Well,” she began, taking the clip out from Cater’s hair. “You have nice length hair and it’s easier to try different styles with your hair. Plus, your unique magic makes it so I can practice multiple hairstyles at once! Oh, I don’t need them yet though.”

“Is that so…” he trailed off. Yuu gently ran her fingertips through Cater’s hair. Each time the brushed his hair with her fingers, it felt soothing to say the least. She stepped toward the dresser to grab a brush. Without realizing, Cater let his lids fall as she brushed through his orange strands of hair. Her movements were so gentle and tender, any tension he felt in his body just oozed away.

“I’ll just start with something simple,” Yuu said, setting down the brush and grabbing a fine-toothed comb.

“Okay,” Cater briefly replied.

She used the end of the comb to separate the top section of his hair to carefully tie into a rubber band. Once in, she tugged a bit at the hair in the rubber band at the top of his scalp to add some volume. When satisfied, Yuu again used the end of the comb to section out a piece of his hair at the side of his head.

“Yuu-chan,” Cater spoke up as she began to braid the section of hair. His eyelids still shut.

“Oh, does something hurt or feel uncomfortable?”

“No,” he quicky said, “I was just wondering why you’re practicing hairstyles on me.”

“Yeah, hold on, lemme finish this braid first, Senpai... There, that looks good,” Yuu said, tying the braid into another rubber band. “Well, there’s a couple of hairstyles I wanna try for myself but I wanted to practice them. But there’s a few I wanted to try but hmmm… How should I put it?” She took her comb to section out another piece of hair at the other side of his head. She took that piece and combed it to looked less disorderly. “It’s hard to figure out how to do hairstyles that have the focal points on the back, or that are consistent throughout. I don’t have anyone to kinda help me with that, but I thought if I could try it on your hair, I can get a good idea how to do it for myself, I guess? Plus, I can practice more than one at a time because of your unique magic! So, it’s hitting two birds with one stone, you could say.”

Yuu took the new section of hair and braided it as well. “Ohh,” Cater said.

“Whatever is done to your clones doesn’t reflect your appearance when they disappear, right?” She rubber banded the section of hair.

“No, not really.”

“Good…” Yuu smiled to herself, combining the two braids to the first piece of hair she rubber banded earlier. “Ah, this one is looking cute.” She grabbed a pink ribbon to tie a bow around the three pieces of hair. “I thought it was gonna be easy.”

“What’s it look like?” Cater asked.

“I’ll take a pic,” Yuu said, taking out her cellphone Crowley had given to her not too long ago. She snapped a quick note before facing the screen toward him. “See?”

“Oh, that’s a cute look! It’d probably would look really cute on you, Yuu-chan!”

There was a brief pause. Cater felt his cheeks redden. He just said what popped into his head without realizing it. The man was grateful Yuu couldn’t see his face. Yuu pulled her phone away from view, and quietly replied, “You think so…?”

There was another short pause before Cater spoke up, “So, you said you needed two clones to practice?”

“Uh, yeah,” Yuu answered abruptly. It involves using a curling iron, so I wanted a backup for when I mess up.”

“Okay, Split Card!”

-----

“Hey, Yuu-chan,” said Cater copy #1, “you did good makin’ these wavy curls.” He shook his head joyfully, singing out the curled waves in his hair. “They’re so bouncy!”

“Oh yeah,” said Cater copy #2, “I have this nice braid crown going over my head.” He gestured toward the top of his head. As he said, a braid wrapped around his head, and a few strands of hair dangled from the crown. “Truly I am King Cater!”

“Which one is Yuu-chan working on now? Number 4?” Cater copy #3 said, rocking an orange mohawk.

“A-Are you sure you want me to shave it?” Yuu asked timidly to copy #4, hesitantly holding a pair of clippers.

“Yeah, sure, go ahead!” Cater copy #4 delightfully replied. “Doesn’t affect the original! Plus, it’ll make for fun selfies to put on Magicam.” The other copies shouted, “Yeah!” in unison.

“I don’t need my followers to think I changed my hairstyle 5 times in one day!” the original Cater spoke up.

Yuu had asked Cater to make two clones of himself originally, to have one as a backup, but found she only needed one try to figure out how to curl waves with a curling iron. Then she asked for another two to try the braid crown in case she needed a backup, and then it just snowballed from there.

“Cater, you want me to try shaving the side of your head?”

“Yeah!” Copy #4 said, “I always wondered about those asymmetrical cuts!”

Yuu glanced over at the original Cater. He just shook his hand as if to say, “Go ahead.” Like copy #4 said, it doesn’t affect the original.

“Okay, here I go…” Still unsure, Yuu turned on the clippers, causing a faint buzzing sound.

-----

Hard thumps could be made out in the Heartslabyul dorm hallway carpet. The dorm leader was gritting his teeth, his face red in anger. “What need would he have to make his clones and make such a racket?!”

“Calm down, Riddle,” Trey kept pace beside Riddle. Trey’s efforts were only brushed aside as Riddle trampled on, beelining to Cater’s room. As they neared, loud sounds of giggling and laughter echoed behind the door. Ready to cast his unique magic the second he opened the door; Riddle grabbed the doorknob with great vigor. The next second, Trey’s arm swooped in front of Riddle’s body.

“Riddle,” he said. His voice was gentle, but stern. “Let’s access what’s going on before doing anything drastic, okay?” Trey smiled reassuringly. Riddle took a deep breath in before heaving a heavy sigh. The red faded from his face. “Fine,” the dorm leader said, almost with a pout.

“Uh, Cater-senpai, er, senpais?” a female voice said behind the door.

“Don’t worry!” said Cater.

“We’re just having fun, Yuu-chan!” said what again, sounded like Cater.

“Yuu?!” Trey stated. His eyes opened wide in shock.

“That’s it!” Riddle forced the door open, stomping inside before yelling. “Cater!”

“Yuu, are you--?” Trey began but cut himself off.

“Oh, uh, hi,” Yuu awkwardly waved at the two. Not in any danger, but a bit tense, Yuu was sitting in the chair the previous Caters sat in before. Multiple Cater clones were pointing at her hair or held a piece of it in her hand.

“A fishtail braid would look great in her hair!” said the Cater with a braided crown.

“You know our sisters said we sucked at it growing up!” said the Cater with wavy curls.

“Well practice makes perfect right?!” said the braided crown Cater.

“I think a French braid is a classic. Plus, we were usually good at them growing up,” said Cater with a side-shave. His arms were crossed as he stared at Yuu’s hair in thought.

“Uh, Caters, maybe let’s not tug at Yuu-chan’s hair,” said the original Cater, his hair still with the braided back style.

“Don’t be so stingy,” braided crown Cater said.

“Yeah! I know you’d wanna do a fun hairdo with her too, since you could take a couple-like selfie with it!” said cater with the side-shave.

“Wha--? Why would I?!” the original Cater argued, but pink flushed his cheeks. He dared not look at Yuu’s face. What sort of expression she was making, he had no idea.

“’Cause we’re all thinking the same thing?” said Cater with the braided crown. “We haven’t posted anything on Magicam in a while anyway.”

“Uh, I kinda have some other homework I needed to get to tonight…” Yuu mumbled, looking as lost.

“I think we should try something new entirely!” slipped in Cater with a mohawk. In his hand were the clippers from before. With a smug look on his face, he turned them on. Yuu yelped.

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!”

Riddle’s signature collars appeared on all the Caters’ necks. Then, all the clones poofed out of existence, leaving just the original Cater, still in the collar.

“Oh, hi there, uh, dorm leader…” Cater mumbled, trying to avoid any eye contact.

“What’s going on in here?” Trey asked.

“Hair styling practice?” Cater hesitantly answered.

Riddle sighed. He crossed his arms and stood with authoritatively. “Cater, you’re making too much noise. Also, it’s past the allowed time for visitors. I won’t punish you for breaking the rules this time but be aware. I won’t be as forgiving next time.”

“Y-Yeah, I’ll be sure not to let this happen again,” Cater said, bowing toward Riddle.

“Glad it wasn’t something major…” Trey remarked. His forearm leaned against the side of the doorway. “Alright, Riddle, let’s let them clean up.”

“Hmph.” Riddle turned on his heel and walked back into the hallway, Trey following closely behind.

“Uh, hey!” Cater said, running toward the door. “What about this collar?” A few seconds later, the collar vanished from his neck. He heaved a sigh and walked back into his dorm. Yuu was already packing up her supplies, and just about finished.

“Um,” Cater spoke up, gaining her attention. Yuu looked toward him, zipping her bag up and swinging the handle over her shoulder. He put his hand at the back of his head. For a few moments he stared at the floor, shifting his feet, before looking back toward the girl. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it’d get so…hectic.” He chuckled. Yuu looked toward her back, fiddling with the strap of it between her fingers. Cater took notice, lowering his hand from his head, staring at her expectantly. When Yuu finally spoke up, her eyes were still at her fingers. “We can…still take a selfie together…if you want.”

Cater jolted. “A selfie…?”

His chest tightened when she nodded timidly, a soft pink in her cheeks.

-----

Cater sat on the bench at the foot of his bed. His leg was bent with his foot on the bench, and his cheek squished as he rested his face on his knee. He looked idly down at his phone screen, swiping through his camera roll. He selected one of the selfies with Yuu recently, and chose to open it in an editing app. The default recommended filter was to add hearts around their faces.

He turned off the screen, setting his phone screen down on the bench. “I don’t really wanna post any of the selfies…” he mumbled. After a few moments, he vocalized a heavy sigh. Cater raised his other foot to the bench, then used his legs to launch himself backwards to fall into his bed.

“I liked the idea of a French braid on her…”

#twst imagines #twisted wonderland #twst #cater #cater diamond #this is for you marzi #writing #fanfic #fanfiction

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valdiis · 4 years ago

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(An RP excerpt with @pocketfox)

It wasn't that Matthias minded the fact that it was a strip club. It wasn't that he minded it was for gay men. It wasn't even that he minded he was paying for his own damn drinks because Ricky's best man was a cheapskate. What drove Mat up the damned wall about the whole thing was that every damn man in their little bachelor party group had someone to go home to that night. Mat was the only one who'd have a terminal case of blue-balls after it was all over. Resigning himself to another date with Missus Palmer, Mat slouched in his chair and tried not to stare too long at the lush bubble butts and rippling abs.

At first glance, one might not peg Mat for ex-military. His wavy auburn hair would probably have brushed his shoulders if he let it out of its ponytail and the three-day-old beard on his face made him look more rugged than scruffy. His snug jeans were dark-washed to hide any potential grease stains and his heavy boots said 'work' more than 'march.' But the way his biceps strained the sleeves of his black t-shirt and his shoulders filled out the rest might've lent one cause to think he was at least a fighter of some kind. In short, Matthias Silverton was built like a brick shithouse and looked like a common laborer.

"Heeey," shouted Henry - Ricky's best man - over the din of the music. "Figured we'd celebrate up right, yeah?" He produced a box of cigars with a flourish and passed them around. Mat grimaced - Cheap-ass drugstore shit. - but took one anyway. Everyone knew he liked them, but few understood that he liked good ones.

"It's a party and you're making them smoke that junk?" an impish voice piped up.

Next to the table, appearing as if by magic, stood a young man who looked like he had been shaped by some divine Creator for just this kind of place. He couldn't have been more than five and a half feet, dressed in acid wash jeans and a black v-neck fishnet t-shirt that both look like they'd been lovingly painted on his lean, athletic frame. He stood with one hand braced on a curvy, cocked hip and the other balancing a tray loaded with drinks of varying kinds, his head tilted and a coy smile on his plush lips.

Setting the tray down near at hand, the boy began passing out each man's chosen libations, and oh yes, you know he leaned over the table far more than necessary, his pert backside popped up to show off the sexy curves he could make from shoulders to ass. With a wink towards Matthias, he straightened up again, tucking back a loose strand of impossibly red hair that had escaped from his messy ponytail. "If you're not careful, I'll tell my boss somebody's trying to have a good time with cheap cigars in his club," he teased.

Christ... Mat was an atheist, but some days even the godless need some way to swear. He swallowed compulsively as his gaze swept over the young man exactly as that pose demanded it do. Even reminding himself that these guys trained for that special look didn't keep the jolt of lust from waking his dick. And here he'd told himself he could manage not to look much...

He took his mimosa with a grateful nod. Nobody gave a big man like him shit for his drink choices; one clenched fist put stop to that. "Tell him," Mat spoke up, his voice a smooth, easy baritone with a hint of Georgia in it. "Maybe he'll feel challenged and send out somethin' better." The other men at the table snorted and waved Mat off to a chorus of 'whatever, man' and 'snob.'

Straightening up, Fisher gave the big man a thoughtful look, one tinged with impish amusement that lit up his eyes. In the muted light of the club, they were a deep forest green, but one had to imagine they glowed like new leaves in decent lighting. Then he laughed and tossed his ponytail back over his shoulder. "Or maybe he'll come out looking for the guy who besmirched his honor," he chuckled. "And believe me, you don't want Lucian Redding thinking you besmirched what little honor he's got left; he's even bigger than you, sweet thing." His gaze raked over Mat, and yes, he was absolutely undressing the man with his eyes and making no secret of it.

Then, abruptly, the boy spun in one fluid movement and sauntered away with just the right amount of sway in his hips to give a man ideas. He made his way back to the bar, expertly dodging tables and grabby patrons both, to share a few words with the scruffy-haired young man currently behind it. Both of them glanced towards the party, and then Fisher was gone, probably through some staff only door.

Thankfully when he reappeared a few minutes later, it wasn't with his reportedly gigantic boss in tow. No, it was with a wooden box, one he presented with a flourish to the table. "Lucian was appalled," he explained, "and he demanded I rectify the situation right this instant. His words, so enjoy, boys."

For a single irrational moment, Mat wanted to know what those gorgeous green eyes looked like in the throes of passion. It was absolutely imperative to his brain for a good few seconds before he got finally ahold of himself somewhere in the middle of the word 'besmirched.' A faint blush touched Mat's cheeks at having it pointed out that he was the biggest of the men at the table; it was something he tried not to make a fuss over, but he lifted motorcycles while most of his buddies did lighter work or surfed desks. Not that he was all that close to any one of these men. He'd served with Ricky, which meant he got invited to things like weddings, but he wasn't exactly a drinking buddy with any of them.

These thoughts kept him distracted enough to not notice how the young man undressed him so blatantly, but not so distracted he couldn't watch those hips on the way out. "Damn," he muttered. So did two other people at the table (including Ricky, whose soon-to-be-husband Chase would have been very jealous to see that dazed look on Ricky's face). Mat's palms itched to hold those hips and he goddamn knew better than to daydream.

He was in the midst of stuffing all that attraction back into the mental trash bin when Fisher returned with some much better cigars in a proper wooden box. "If I didn't know Henry's already set us up on separate tabs, I'd hope you put this on his. How much?" he asked, fingers hovering already. It was an expense he could probably swing tonight. Just the once.

"This one's on the house, honey. Our treat." Fisher gave this 'Henry' guy such a look. It was the sort of look that made a guy feel like he'd just kicked a puppy and tripped Mother Theresa, because separate tabs at a guy's bachelor party? Really? C'mon, Hank.

Sliding up onto the edge of the table, Fisher took a seat like he belonged there, his long legs crossed at the knee. He knew just how to pose himself to give just about every guy at the table a delicious view, but one brawny, Georgia-flavored man in particular was getting the real feast: smooth lines, warm eyes, soft lips, and a teasing slice of tight, flat belly when Fisher's shirt rode up just so. "So who's the special guy tonight?" he cooed. "Wait, no, let me guess... You. Right?" He winked at Ricky. "I know that look... You keep telling yourself you're a bad, bad man for eating the eye candy."

Slyly Fisher cast a glance at Mat. But not you, right? that look said. You want to eat me up until there's nothing left...

Before he could spend any time questioning it, Mat leapt on the good fortune of not smoking dollar cigars and plucked up one of the Good Shit (tm) instead. He had his cigar clipper in his chest pocket, but instead he pulled out a very sharp pocket knife to clip the end. Last thing he needed was some asshole not returning it; easier to lend a pocket knife 'round the table instead. He almost laughed aloud at the look Fisher shot the best man. Somehow, he instead kept his mirth to chewing the inside corners of his lips.

While Fisher talked up Ricky, Matthias kept telling himself to stop looking - and kept failing his own orders spectacularly. The boy was an absolutely delicious creation and God help him, did he ever want a taste. His steely grey eyes never once stopped roaming those smooth lines - but for the one moment when he locked gazes with Fisher and his perusal froze. There was that impulse to see passion in his face again, not just to fuck the boy but to see real ecstasy on his elfin features. Ricky blathered something about getting married in three days but Mat heard none of it.

Flirting with the customers was part of the job, and Fisher had it down to a science. He could even rightfully be accused of mentally checking out during some of the longer nights, particularly when he had to deal with parties just like... no, not like this one. Because now he couldn't tear his eyes away from the quiet, almost grim man next to him. The man -- Fisher thought he'd heard him called Mat -- had barely spoken to him, and yet something about him had sunk its claws into the boy and refused to let go.

Fisher swallowed thickly and realized Ricky was still talking to him. He laughed and wagged a finger at the groom-to-be. "Naughty, naughty. But what happens in these walls stays here, right? Don't worry, we won't tell." He then pressed that finger to his own lips in a shushing gesture. And yet even as he flirted, his attention kept slipping back to Matthias, and suddenly he was aware of... Christ Almighty, was he hard? At work? Just from a customer staring at him? It would have been enough to make Fisher blush if he hadn't had that particular reflex numbed out of him years ago.

"So hey," he said suddenly, "I'm not scheduled on stage tonight, so how about I take care of you boys instead? Make sure you have a good time before reality tries to remind us it exists?"

A pang of disappointment hit him like a knife to the chest, inexplicably strong dismay at the thought that this beautiful boy a.) was a dancer, holy fuck, and b.) wasn't going to be dancing, goddammit. Rather than give his emotions any sway (and really, when did he ever?), Mat picked up his mimosa and took a sip. "Cigars and the hottest little thing in the club? And here I was all fixin' to be pissed off tonight," he drawled softly. When his gaze met Fisher's again, the hint of mirth was there warming the steel of his eyes long before it came anywhere near his lips.

A second later, the emotion was gone as he turned back to the party of six men. "Hell yeah," one answered. "Gonna get our Ricky-boy a lap dance?" asked another. Mat's growl cut in, "He said he'd take care of us, not that he's gonna perform. Pay a dancer for your lap dances." Why did the thought of this delicate young man dancing on the lap of someone like Ricky make him want to murder his friend with his bare hands? Homicide was not a good look on him, so he picked up his drink again and downed a good portion of it.

Fisher only barely stopped himself from blinking at Mat in open shock. With any other customer, his first instinct would have been to assume the guy wasn't into the idea of strip clubs and lap dancers, but he'd seen the way this one looked at him... Something fluttered in Fisher's belly when he realized Mat had sounded almost... possessive. Normally the little redhead detested that sort of behavior so why...

Giving his head a shake to clear it, and disguising it as a gesture of regret, Fisher flashed Ricky and his companions an apologetic smile. "Afraid your grumpy friend here has it right, boys. I'd hate to take money out of another boy's g-string... but how about I make it up to you?" Without waiting for an answer, he hopped off the table and headed off in search of both a drink and something to appease the party, because even if all he wanted right now was to snug himself up into Mat's lap and offer him his own private dance, he still had to consider just how much a half dozen drunk, horny partiers were going to bring in if they were finessed just right.

When Fisher returned, it was with a bright orange drink in his hand and a gorgeous young Asian man, built much like himself, in tow. "Boys," Fisher said, "meet Minh. I'd warn you to play nice, because his bite is much worse than his bark... but I get the feeling you'd like that, right?" Minh winked at the table and rolled his body from shoulders to hips. And while his fellow dancer worked on distracting the rest of Mat's friends, Fisher took it upon himself to slide in next to the man. "Hey, handsome. Hope your night's lookin' up."

#writing #Matthias is mine #modern AU

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shingekicornwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Agricultural Werewolves, pt 1

Fandom/Tags: Hero Academia, alternate universe/werewolves, mentions of past bullying, Counseling, Bakugou Katsuki Faces Consequences, modern fantasy, unreliable narrator, Katsuki is kind of an asshole please don’t take his commentary as my opinion or truth

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki/Anger Management Counseling, future Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, future Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto

A/N: This is just a fun au full of wholesome farming, but also boys dealing with issues and a whole lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms and attempts to heal. Please enjoy

Not all farmers are werewolves, but many werewolves are farmers. For some reason this fact makes no sense to people who don’t know werewolves. For everyone else it makes perfect sense.

Werewolves have to eat a lot.

As in: the number one drain of money in werewolf houses is filling the cabinets enough to keep all members of the family healthy. Creatures who change shape with regularity, who shift their bodies and have immense strength that burns calories faster than they can blink, have to maintain an intake that allows them to function without their bodies resorting to eating itself. Even werewolves who don’t change all that often, either out of preference or a lack of opportunity, have to eat more than their human peers or suffer symptoms of starvation.

Hence: werewolves are farmers.

It is infinitely easier to exist outside of poverty when werewolves, congregated into their own communities, make the food themselves instead of buying it all at the nearest grocer. They raise and cut the meats themselves. They grow the appropriate fruits and vegetables that balance their diets. They sell the portions according to their needs as opposed to human needs. It only makes sense that they do things this way.

They control the food market. They have space to run to their hearts content without worrying about bothering human neighbors. They make the rules for their communities with the standards they need, instead of standards written by people who don’t understand how they function. Government approved wolf reserves more often become farmland than anything else.

Werewolves are farmers, and statistically they’re more likely to be happy that way.

This statistic does not account for Bakugou Katsuki.

At the moment, he is the furthest thing from happy.

“This place smells like shit.”

Normally he’d be cuffed upside the head for that. Instead his mom just looks at him, with that fucking pity in her eyes that hasn’t left in days, and frowns. Katsuki pointedly doesn’t look back and continues staring out the window at the trees and dust being kicked up by the tires.

“That’s the chicken houses. It is pretty rancid,” she says. Acting like she’s not on her way to get rid of her mess and wash her hands of it. “Ah, there’s the gates. Kind of nostalgic.”

The gate marking the Kiyashi Wolf Reserve is flanked by stone wolves howling at the sky in unison. Their car passes them by with no fanfare and Katsuki growls at the town beyond.

It’s as unimpressive as he thought it’d be. A town in the middle of Fuckoff Nowhere, with nothing to its name and a bunch of people who will die there the same nobodies they were born as. All it has to show are a bunch of old ass buildings for tourists and a stupid shrine. Their car slows down once they pass the gates and Katsuki gets a good, long look at the shitty little storefronts lining the main street. His mom makes some weird noise when she sees them and starts yammering again.

“Oh, I’ve missed this.” She eases up on the gas as the traffic increases, slowing down to turn her head and look at a restaurant that’s filling the car with some kind of greasy meat smell. “That place over there makes the best dango. And there’s this cartilage karaage that’s so delicious—they pile the plate high, too. I forgot how much I missed getting the big portions. City eating just doesn’t give you enough.”

Katsuki huffs, glaring at a group of bumpkin kids who stare at their car as they walk past. “S’at why you left? Got cankles?”

Once again, no cuffing comes. Not even a growl. His mom just frowns with that fucking look again and doesn’t do anything.

“Better business in the bigger towns. Oh my, that store is still there? God, I used to go there every week to blow my paychecks. It looks even nicer than when I left it.”

They pass the shitty little boutique and she smiles at it, taking a left when the main road ends and humming at all the ancient scenery. There’s more old as shit buildings, more little shops and restaurants—more kids staring at their nice car and whispering to each other, which is just fucking great. There’s signs for the local shrine next to fox statues lining the side of the road and Katsuki makes a face at each one as they pass. This whole town looks like it hasn’t had a pulse in decades.

“Do you remember the Midoriyas, hon?” his mom asks as she takes another turn. “They left when you were small, around first grade.”

He thinks back and the memories come to the surface easily. Kindergarten had been spent running around followed by lackeys, catching bugs, making a mess of the local playground, and...huh, right. A face pops back into his mind. Freckles and curls, big green eyes, crying all the goddamn time because he had no spine and didn’t get that he wasn’t wanted around.

“Deku?” the name pops up before he can think too hard about it. Deku. The little snot who yelled too much and probably still wet the bed when he moved away. Useless little Deku.

“That’s not his name,” the hag nags him, jogging him out of the trip through memory lane.

Katsuki scoffs. “It’s what he was.”

“Katsuki,” she starts, finally seeming a little more like herself before she sighs and buries it deep. “Izuku and his mother moved here when they left. Inko’s offered to take you in while you’re here.”

So he’s gonna be under the care of the family with the worlds biggest crybaby? “Great.”

“It is great. You know her, a little. You and Izuku could catch up. Plus, Inko has a little business now. This old ryokan got turned into the local youth hostel, and it’s all under her name now since the old owner retired. It sounds very relaxing. Isn’t that nice?” His mom smiles, like this is actually good news, and it’s disgusting.

“I’m gonna die of boredom,” Katsuki mutters. He looks back out the window and there’s old people with baskets of vegetables just walking next to the road like they want to be hit by a car. Christ this place sucks.

“Don’t say that. This town has a ton of stuff to keep you occupied. You can run around to your hearts content and nothing’ll stop you.”

He lets his head rest against the glass and hopes the vibrations from the shitty road will concuss him. “Wheeee.”

“You’ll like it,” His mom promises. She’d also promised he’d be a winner, and here she is ripping him away from his top school of choice. So he thinks she can take that promise and fucking shove it.

The road gets tinier and the car slows down, with his mom squinting at each building as they pass and muttering under her breath. There are more old people with vegetables and stupid hick kids running around. The car slows to a stop at a break in whatever pathetic excuse for a sidewalk this town has lining its roads, shutting off as the hag smiles at the old ass building next to them.

“There it is,” she breathes.

It looks as shitty as he thought it would. Old, traditional, with weathered wood one good termite away from crumbling and an ancient sign trying to pass for new with a fresh coat of paint slapped on. Small for a ryokan, too, which is probably why it got sold off. There are planters surrounding the front entrance filled with flowers, where a pudgy little figure is hunched over and pulling weeds.

The hag doesn’t hesitate to unbuckle and climb out, shouting over the top of the car. “Inko!”

The pudgy woman turns around and drops the clippers in her hand. Katsuki doesn’t move to get out. He remembers her face. He remembers her taller, presenting snacks and endless bandages for her crybaby son. He remembers seeing her less and less before she was gone altogether. The short, heavy woman he’s looking at how doesn’t resemble her at all. She’s in dirty jeans and flannel, with a handkerchief tied around her head to keep her hair back and rubber boots caked in mud tracking mess all over the walkway.

Damn, Auntie let herself go.

“Mitsuki?” Inko asks, before throwing herself forward to give his mom a running hug. “Oh my—I thought you weren’t due until later!”

“Traffic was a lot lighter than I thought it’d be.” His mom laughs, as if it’s just a stupid social visit and not her dumping her goddamn kid to cover up a mess. “Look at you! You’re radiant! Kiyashi must be treating you well.”

Katsuki resists the urge to double take. His mother is a shit liar.

Inko just smiles. “It’s all the hiking. I had no idea how much fresh air makes you feel better.”

“Oh, I know. I felt like I couldn’t breathe after I left, city air is disgusting.” His mom makes a face. “How are you and the kids doing?”

“Wonderful. Izuku’s out working right now.”

“No foolin? Feels like yesterday he was learning to walk.”

“They grow up so fast.” Inko finally looks over and spots Katsuki slouched in his seat. “Is that Katsuki?”

He growls. She doesn’t even look phased.

“Yep,” his mother nods, then for the first time since this trip started she raises her voice. “Oi! Get out of the car and be sociable!”

He bares his teeth—fuck her, fuck this trip, fuck this stupid hick town—but opens the door. He makes sure to slam it shut. Just because he can. And he wants everyone to know he thinks this whole thing is a pile of shit. Especially the hag, who just glares at him but refuses to yell, even though he knows she wants to.

She always wants to. She always does. This stupid fucking pity game is going to drive him insane, why the hell does she think shutting up is gonna work?

“You’ve gotten so big,” Inko fawns, looking up at him with a big smile. “I bet you barely remember me, huh?”

“He does,” his mother deadpans. There’s a silent threat while Inko isn’t looking to at least greet her, but he responds to that with a sneer that just makes her shake her head. Instead of yelling, once again, she turns her focus to Inko. “Thank you again for this.”

“Oh, it’s no issue at all. The hostel doesn’t just exist for tourism,” Inko deflects. Katsuki looks at the hostel with another critical eye and snorts. Of course it isn’t for tourism. The whole place looks like shit. Tourists who pay for this must be idiots. “Katsuki, dear, I have a room set up for you. It has your name on it so you can go ahead and start loading your things in if you want.”

Finally, an excuse to get out of this. He yanks the car door open and grabs for his first few bags, eager to get away from sight for a few minutes. The women just keep blabbering on about nothing like he’s not even there.

“How’s the boarder?” his mom asks as Katsuki hauls his duffel bag out.

“Oh, he’s doing well. He’s at the shrine now.”

“That’s two working boys, then—“

It’s nothing to load two bags over his shoulders and get away. Leave the biddies to their gossip, he thinks. It’s the only thing they’re good for.

The inside of the hostel is...less shitty. Huh. Maybe that’s how it stayed in business. Katsuki kicks off his shoes and puts on the slippers set out with a scowl, surveying what’s visible past the entryway. The floors are polished wood, the insides done up so that everything looks bright and new. There’s a lounge right next to the entrance that’s been done up to be more teen friendly—a gaming console and a TV, a little fridge with a clear door filled with drinks, and a few bean bag chairs—he bypasses it with a huff and makes his way toward the rooms.

There’s a courtyard. The doors are open, letting him get a good look at the tree and flowers planted to look all pretty. He doesn’t see any people, though.

He passes rooms with no name on them. Empty, empty, empty—how the hell does Auntie keep this place in business? At first it’s nothing. Then it starts getting annoying.

Empty, empty, empty.

Empty.

Motherfucker.

He circles the place twice and can’t find anything. No sign. No name. Just empty rooms in a shitty hostel in a shitty hick town and his own shitty breathing because why the hell has he had to carry the bags for this long?

The next time he finds his way back to the lounge he yells in frustration, kicking a chair. He’s about to ditch the bags and run through the place when he turns just a little too quickly and his duffel bag hits someone in the shoulder.

Katsuki bares his teeth before he can think about it. “Oi! Watch it!”

The stranger stumbles back. It’s some hick kid, in a dirty t-shirt and ratty baseball hat. His arms—thicker than expected for someone shorter than Katsuki is, with a fucked up hand that looks like it’s made of scar tissue—are carrying a wooden box filled to the brim with vegetables and paper wrapped packages that smell like blood and raw meat.

“Sorry about that—“ the stranger steadies himself, hefting the box up and stepping back. He’s too busy making sure nothing from the box is falling to even look at the guy he’s apologizing too, the asshole. “Are you lost?”

“No!” Katsuki barks.

“Well, it’s alright if you are, I just—“ the stranger meets Katsuki’s eyes and his own widen. “...wait.”

Katsuki bristles. Then something starts to churn, in his head. The stranger has big green eyes.

Big green eyes, and freckles. Familiar patterns speckled all over his face. Wild curls are attempting to escape out from under the hat, pasted to his forehead from sweat. If the hat wasn’t on it would be the same wild mass of uncontrollable coils that he remembers.

The last time he saw that face was years ago, out the back of a car as it drove away.

“Kacchan?” Deku asks, bigger and thicker and smelling like wolf in a way he definitely didn’t in first grade.

What the fuck?

#My Hero Academia #Boku No Hero Academia #Bakugou Katsuki #Midoriya Izuku #Hero Academia fic #skell writes #agricultural werewolves au

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king-finnigan · 4 years ago

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Ok so you know those fics where Geralts hair is damaged by a monster and Jaskier fixes it? Modern au, but Geralt still hunts monsters and lives with his platonic friend (crush) jask. One night he comes home and his hair is wrecked so jask helps him cut it but he realizes too late that the clipper doesn’t have a guard. This would 11/10 help me cope with how my sister did the same thing to me :( lol

I now have an incredibly drastic short side cut and a guilty sister. Luckily we aren’t going out so it will grow lol. I just feel like that’s something (messing up clippers) Jaskier would do.

A/n: oh noooo, I’m so sorry to hear that! I hope your hair grows back quickly! Hope this little fic helps lmao. (Also I added a bit onto the story because I have one (1) hobby and I can and will use it in my writing)

Jaskier looks up from his book when he hears the roaring of Roach’s engine outside the living room window. He can’t help the wild grin that spreads across his face, though he takes a moment to gather himself as he walks to the front door – he doesn’t really wanna show Geralt how glad he is to see him after spending the last few days on his own. After all, Geralt’s just a housemate, nothing more. Definitely not Jaskier’s crush. No, sir.

His composure falls when he swings the door open and finds his Witcher in the driveway, his hair a veritable fucking mess. He bursts out into laughter, which earns him a glare from Geralt, who pushes past him, into the house. “Don’t mention it,” he grumbles.

Jaskier closes the front door behind him, leaning against it as he watches Geralt dump his laundry by the washing machine under the stairs, his face as still as ever, the tightening of his jaw the only sign that he’s in a really bad mood. Of course, Jaskier’s never let that stop him.

“So what happened, Witcher? Run into a lawnmower?” Geralt glares at him again, and Jaskier grins. It does really look like a mess – a large chunk of hair missing from the back of his head, some loose strands hanging at random lengths around it.

He sighs, folds his arms in front of his chest. “Alright, I’ve got an idea. There’s no way that’s gonna look good for the next…” he waves his hand a bit “year or so? At least until it grows back to full length, which is gonna take a while. So, what if… I give you a new haircut?”

Geralt looks at him, narrows his amber eyes. “No.”

Jaskier scoffs, leaning his head against the door, looking up at the ceiling. He notices a spider web in the corner and makes a mental note to vacuum it up later. “Come on, Geralt. We both know your hair’s gonna look like shit if we don’t do something about it. And you know,” he shrugs, “maybe it’s time for a new look. You’ve had the same haircut for… what? Sixty years? Don’t you think it’s time for something new?”

Geralt sighs, his shoulders slumping a bit in defeat. “Fine, I’ll go to a hairdresser tomorrow.”

Jaskier scoffs, pushing himself away from the door to start loading in the washing machine. “No, you won’t. You told me you don’t want a stranger with scissors getting anywhere near you, like, a year ago. Oh, don’t give me that look, I actually listen to what my housemate says, unlike some people.”

He straightens again, slams the washing machine door shut. “Look, Witcher, I’ve got perfectly good scissors and clippers in the bathroom. I’m perfectly adept at cutting my own hair and maintaining it, so doing yours would be easy as fuck. Your options are trusting me, trusting a stranger, or looking ridiculous.” He shrugs, picking his book from the living room table, walking up the stairs as Geralt continues staring at him. “Your choice.”

---

A knock on his door startles him out of his concentration. “Yeah?” The door opens a crack, and he sees Geralt’s amber eyes peering at him. “What is it? Changed your mind?”

“Hmm.” The door closes again, and Jaskier can’t help the slow smile that spreads across his face as he closes his laptop and gets up. He finds the Witcher in the bathroom, his hair clean and slightly damp from, presumably, a shower – though still very much a mess.

“Alright, so…” He waves his hand vaguely. “Any ideas? What do you want to do with it?”

Geralt’s frown deepens, and he looks at himself in the mirror. “I don’t know.”

Jaskier sighs, purses his lips. “Alright, let me see.” He moves to stand behind Geralt, carding a hand through the soft locks, assessing the damage. “Yeah, definitely gonna have to go for an undercut, here. Or a crewcut, if that’s what you want?”

“No.”

“Okay, undercut it is.” He takes a step to the side so he can see Geralt’s face in the mirror. “Do you want the top to be, like, the same length as my hair, or like, as long as it is now?”

Geralt seems to hesitate, eyes flickering between himself and Jaskier, probably trying to imagine how he would look with hair the same length as Jaskier’s. Finally, he seems to decide, and nods once. “Long.”

Jaskier grins, pushing past Geralt to rummage in the cupboard under the sink. “Alright, please do take my desk chair from my room, master Witcher, and I’ll be with you shortly.”

He doesn’t miss Geralt’s eyeroll, though the Witcher does as he’s told, walking out of the bathroom, returning with Jaskier’s chair. Usually, he does his own hair standing up, but Geralt is an inch or two taller than him, which would make it hard to do his hair – it’s easier if Geralt sits down. Which is what the Witcher does, before Jaskier even has to ask. He grins again, and moves to stand behind Geralt, hairtie in hand. He gathers the hair at the top of Geralt’s head, tying it up in a messy bun, so he doesn’t accidentally cut it off, before he takes the heavy scissors.

“Alright, we’re gonna have to cut off the longer parts first, before I shave it.”

He sighs, taking a lock at the back of Geralt’s head, before looking up, meeting amber eyes in the mirror. “You ready?” Geralt nods, once. Snip. The lock falls to the ground, Jaskier’s eyes following it all the way down. He sighs again. “Alright, let’s continue.”

---

Before long, the back and sides of Geralt’s head are significantly shorter, and Jaskier lays down the scissors, flexing his stiff fingers a bit, before taking the clippers.

“Hmm. Maybe start with 9 and work our way down? That way we can always cut it shorter if it’s too long.”

Geralt sighs softly, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Just get it over with.”

Jaskier grins. “Don’t like clippers?”

“Too loud.”

He nods, even though he personally enjoys the buzzing of the clippers, enjoys the feeling of them scraping against his head, but hey, to each their own, he supposes. He turns them on, setting them against the back of Geralt’s head. He heaves a soft sigh, before moving the clippers up, and-

Oh, fuck.

He forgot to put the guard back on the clippers. Meaning that those 9 millimeters he planned on leaving on Geralt’s head have turned to… well, 0. He can’t hide the horror on his own face as he looks from the clippers to the bald patch he managed to create on Geralt’s head.

“What did you do?”

He looks up at Geralt’s reflection, at the amber eyes studying his face intently, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

“Jaskier, what did you do?” the Witcher repeats, and Jaskier swallows thickly.

“I, uh… Forgot the guard. And now…” He points at the back of Geralt’s head sheepishly. “No hair.”

Geralt’s jaw tightens, and a muscle starts pulling at the corner of his lips. Usually, when he looks like that, he goes outside for a few hours and comes back home with bloody knuckles and bits of bark clinging to his skin. Except today, it seems, as Geralt deflates in the chair, tension leaving his shoulders. “Fine.”

Jaskier blinks, frowns. “What?”

“I said ‘fine’. Just do the rest like that. It’ll grow back.”

Jaskier bites his trembling lip, guilt flooding him as he sets the clippers against Geralt’s head again.

---

“It’s a bowl cut.”

Jaskier frowns. “No! It’s… a very short undercut.”

“It’s a long bowl cut, Jaskier.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, fidgeting with his fingers, as he looks at Geralt, who’s staring at his own reflection. “Okay, maybe it is, but… It’ll grow back? Eventually?” He swallows, looks away. “Geralt, I’m- I’m so sorry, I-“

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not, Geralt, I fucked up and I’m so s-“

“Jaskier. I said it’s fine.” The Witcher sighs, walking to the bathroom door. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Jaskier.” He closes the door a little bit harder than he usually does, and Jaskier flinches.

He sighs, spending the next half hour cleaning the hair from the bathroom floor and brushing it out of the clippers, guilt mulling in his head. When he’s done, he rolls the desk chair back to his own room, sitting down on it heavily. He fucked up, he really did. And there’s no way to fix it, either – Geralt will have to walk around for the next few weeks with, well… basically a bowl cut. A long bowl cut, but a bowl cut nonetheless.

He sighs, leaning his chin on his hand, trying to find some way to fix it, when his eye lands on a crochet hook in his penholder. It’s been a few years since he’s done crochet, but it can’t be that hard, right? He suddenly remembers the box of wool under his bed, and a plan forms in his head.

---

Turns out relearning crochet is hard, and he spends the entire night hunched over his work, pausing and unpausing the tutorial over and over again, clumsy fingers working even clumsier stitches. But by the time the sun rises, he’s done it. He’s managed to make a beanie for Geralt. Of course, he’s not sure if it’s gonna fit – he had to use his own head for measurements and added a few stitches to make it a bit bigger – and the colour is… questionable, but it’s there, in all its uneven and bright yellow glory.

He looks up when he hears Geralt’s door open, and sprints into the hall, nearly bumping into the Witcher’s broad chest. Geralt frowns, looks down at Jaskier’s disheveled clothes, still from the previous day, at the circles under his eyes, and scoffs. “What did you do?”

Jaskier frowns, takes a step back, because being this close to Geralt is making his heart do weird things, and hides his work behind his back. “Why do you always think I’m up to something, Geralt?”

“Because you always are.”

Jaskier nods. “Fair enough.” He sighs, chewing on his lower lip. “Look, I’m sorry for what happened yesterday, I really am. So, I uh… made this. For you.” He holds out the beanie, depositing it in Geralt’s hands, who frowns at the misshapen lump of wool.

“What is it?”

“It’s a beanie.”

“It’s yellow.”

“That’s the only wool I had left.”

“You could’ve just bought one, you know that, right?”

He sighs, rolling his eyes. In all honesty, he did forget about just buying one, but Geralt needs to learn how to appreciate a nice gesture, really. He stretches out his hand, reaching for the beanie. “Look, if you don’t want it, you can give it back.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline when Geralt snatches his hands away from Jaskier’s, clutching the lump of wool against his chest. “No.”

“No, what? No, you don’t want it, or no, you’re not giving it back?”

It’s quiet for a while, amber eyes looking at his face intently. Finally: “Thank you.”

That surprises him even more. “For what? Fucking up your hair or making a shitty beanie?”

Geralt grins, a sight that leaves Jaskier slightly breathless. “For trying.”

Jaskier feels a blush creeping up his cheeks, and smiles. “Well, thank you for putting up with me trying.” Before he can think twice about it, he takes a step forward, planting a soft kiss on Geralt’s cheek. The Witcher merely looks at him wide-eyed, and regret curls in Jaskier’s stomach. He’s about to take a step back to flee back into his bedroom, when Geralt’s hand closes around his wrist, stopping him.

He can only stand there, heart in his throat, as Geralt leans forward, softly kissing him. It’s just a feather-light touch, but it’s enough to leave Jaskier breathless and desperate for more – so when Geralt moves back, Jaskier closes his hand around the back of the Witcher’s neck, pulling him closer again, deepening the kiss this time.

He does have to come up for air, eventually – and regrettably – but the sight of Geralt grinning at him makes up for the lack of kissing. He smiles softly. “You know, Witcher… that bowl cut is actually really growing on me, you sure you don’t wanna keep it that way?”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

#Anonymous #squish answers #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #drabble #the witcher

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shoelace-and-friends · 4 years ago

Text

Third week of dog grooming school

So, this post is coming a bit late (tomorrow I’m starting week 4), but i’m getting further along! It’s starting to get harder but I can tell I’m improving.

Day Eleven: Angel the Papillon

Out of all the dogs I’ve groomed so far, I’d say that this dog is the one whose attitude changed the most as I groomed her. Angel is an older dog and my instructor told me in advance that Angel has a bit of anxiety. Although a little squirmy and whiny, she put up with her bath and with being brushed before her shave. However, as it turns out, Angel is absolutely terrified of being blow dried. When I attempted it by myself, she actually tried to bite me a couple times. So, I was unable to dry her on my own and needed some help. But after that though, she became easier and started to warm up to me. as it turns out, Angel is actually a very sweet girl. With praise and affection, I was able to groom her without much upset. As it turns out, all this girl wants to do is hug and be held. She definetely enjoyed being held after we were done. She’s very small. The littleist dog I ever groomed. She and Valet from the week before also made me realize that I like papillons as a breed and I am now planning on getting one once I finish grooming school.

Day Twelve: Ozzie the minuture American shephard

I actually never even heard of this breed prior to that day, but I have to say that this dog is absolutely gorgeous. Ozzie has such a charming face, with his two different eye colors and that cute pink spot on his nose. Also I cannot emphasize enough just how good of a boy he was! No fuss, this guy would let me do literally anything to him. I also got to try some new things with him! His breed are guess sheds A LOT , so he got a rigorous bath with deshedding shampoo and conditioner, and brushes and blow drys in between. A whole buttload of fur came off of this dog. The fur was all over like half the tub room. I also used chunkers on this dog for the first time, under the belly and on the legs, and also to give him a floofy doggy butt and a faux tail. (I actually cut my finger for the first time while grooming on the chunkers lol)

Day thirteen: Chloe the cavalier king Charles spaniel

Chloe got a reverse 7F clipper all over (but the ears and tail), with a 10 blade at whatever the 7F couldn’t get. In other words, she got a short haircut. She’s a well-behaved, older dog, but also probably the laziest dog I ever groomed. All this girl ever wants to do is sit or lay down. It was absolutely impossible to get her to stand because she’d just sit immediately after. So, I had to make do and figure out how to do as much as I could with her in a seated position. The two trickiest things about this groom I’d have to say are the feet and the face. Because of her short haircut I had to give her “poodle feet”, which for me were tricky and kind of hard to get the hang of. As for the face, this was the first time I ever did a whole face by myself. Actually, that day was the first day where our instructor stood back and just let us do our thing withojt helping. She corrected a couple things I missed in the end but I otherwise did a lot on this dog.

Day fourteen: Toby the shih-tzu

For this groom, I feel the need to show you the before and after side by side. This is the most dramatic before and after I’ve ever had to do. Honestly? This groom kind of upset me a little to do. Not because I think I did a bad job, but because his owner actively asked for the dog to be this way. This was pretty much the same deal as Chloe where I had to shave Toby with a 7F reverse and a 10. Personally, I thought he looked better before his haircut and I don’t understand why someone would choose to shave their dog that short in the winter. But, grooming is a service and the goal is to give the owner what they want if you can. Toby’s dad was at least happy. I did make one screw up though where I used a 40 on the whole foot by mistake and not just the paw pads. In the end though Toby was alright and I think it all worked out.

Day fifteen: Zoe the maltese

I don’t know why it is, but for some reason I keep on being the one getting assigned the elderly dogs. Zoe’s an old girl, diabetic and a little chubby (still cute tho). She took a 5F on the body. Her owner came later than scheduled, so my time was a bit limited and I struggled a bit to finish her, with my instructor swooping in at the end to help me get done in time. And on top of that, I accidentally dropped my clippers and now need to get my 5F and 30 blade replaced. I guess I was having an off day on friday. But yanno, tgif?

Aside from Ozzie, this week was a bit boring groom wise because it was mostly just shaves all over the body. But on the plus side, I’ve gained some independence as a groomer this week and was doing a lot more on my own. Next week we will start to get two dogs a day instead of just one, so that is something to look forward to.

#dog grooming #dog groomer #pet grooming #pet groomer #dogs #dog #dogblr #papillon #shih tzu #maltese #mini american shepherd #cavalier king charles spaniel

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mhdiaries · 5 years ago

Photo

Wave 2 Diary of Draculaura

15♥September

I “broke up” with Jackson Jekyll today... not that we were ever really dating I mean officially, which would have been nice but every time he would ask me out he would totally pull the invisible boy act on me and not show up. Or call. The next day he was always very sweet and apologetic but he could never remember why he forgot our date. I guess the final nail in the coffin was when he didn’t meet me at this party and I totally felt like a one tombstone graveyard. I ended up dancing with this scary hot DJ named Holt Hyde who acted like he knew me although I’m pretty sure that we hadn’t met before. Jackson and I are still friends but sometimes that’s just how the tombstone crumbles.

25♥September

Went to the beach with Frankie, Clawdeen and Clawd to watch Lagoona surf. It was a beautiful day, which meant I had to break out the sunscreen although the stuff I have to use is more like sunwall. It’s so thick it’s like being coated in honey and it’s like a sand magnet so I pretty much have to stay on a blanket the whole time or I end up looking like a sand sculpture. Oh well, it’s worth the annoyance to get to spend the day at the beach.

30♥September

I stayed up late reading a new novel about a forbidden romance between a werewolf girl and a vampire boy... like that would ever happen... but it’s so sweet and tragic I couldn’t put it down. Of course I slept through my alarm and was almost late for school, which meant my makeup was a mess cause I couldn’t take my time putting it on. Luckily, Ghoulia saw me before anyone else did and she helped me straighten it out so I didn’t walk into my first class looking like an undead clown... not that there’s anything wrong with that.

1♥October

I took one of those quizzes to see what kind of creature I am - I think all the teen monster mags have them now - which seems kind of strange since like I already know. Anyway, the quiz had questions ike: What is your favorite haunt? What is your favorite food? Would you rather be dead or undead? Do you run, shamble, fly or ooze? So after I answered all the questions I turned to the back to read: Congratulations! You are a Woodland Nymph! You are kind, gentle and love sunshine and nature. You probably make your home in a tree where you enjoy the company of many woodland animals that you would never scare or eat. I wonder if I should share this with father? LOL... maybe not = )

7♥October

Clawd and Spectra had a monster argument today and it created such a fuss that both of them got called into Headmistress Bloodgood’s office. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Clawd so angry or Spectra so self-righteous but neither of them would talk about it when they came out of HHB’s office - not even to me! Clawdeen thinks it has something to do with Cleo and Clawd but I totally don’t understand how she made that connection. Now Clawdeen is mad at Cleo. Again. This is really sad and since it seemed like they were starting to actually tolerate each other.

12♥October

I know a lot of monsters are not excited about having to write an essay on our monster heritage but I think it’s creeperifically cool! First of all, I’m writing a screenplay about my un-life and I think this will really help the third act and secondly because it gives me the opportunity to set the record straight about a couple of things. Beginning with the fact that my father is much older than any monster realizes. I mean he was already a vampire back when togas were first considered fashionable... sooo glad father doesn’t wear one anymore. Then there was that whole identity theft calamity that happened when we rented our castle in Transylvania to a total con-monster who went around pretending to be father. Now I have to carry a copy of my death certificate to prove that I really am as old as I say I am cause some monsters think I must be related to that loser. Unfortunately for the imposter his bats came home to roost and not in a good way either. The rest of my story, like how father took in me and my mother when no one else would and why I’m a vegan vampire I’m going to save for the screenplay which I would like to film in pink and white. How scary cool would that be?

16♥October

In the span on 3 days Clawdeen missed a test in Mad Science, a school dance and a buy one get one shoe sale at the Maul. Frankie and I knew something had to be wrong but Clawdeen wouldn’t answer our texts or emails. Finally Clawd showed us a picture he took of Clawdeen with his iCoffin. Her hair... it was... it was... not of this world. Clawd said she couldn’t fix it and had to “ctrl+alt+delete her new ‘do” with a pair of electric clippers. He said she was so depressed that she turned all her mirrors toward the wall and wasn’t even growling at Howleen for borrowing her clothes. I suggested we shave our heads too but then Frankie reminded me how fast Clawdeen’s hair grows and that we’d be bald a lot longer than she would so we came up with the idea of going to the Maul and buying Clawdeen a fierce fashionista scare package to cheer her up instead and that’s just what we did. Of course we bought some things for ourselves too = )

25♥October

I was supposed to fang out with the ghouls last night but I didn’t. I tried to explain what happened to Clawdeen but I couldn’t. She was annoyed with me cause I always tell her everything. She thinks I’m keeping a secret from her which I guess I sort of am but I’m not sure I want to talk to anybody about it yet. So I wrote this poem to describe what happened. I don’t know why it’s easier for me to express emotions in verse but sometimes it just is. I read it to Count Fabulous who usually leaves the room when I get too sappy but this time he flew down and gave me a little bat hug when I was finished.

One fall autumn night I took a walk jaunt

to meet some friends at a familiar haunt

The sky above was very starry bright

and there seemed to me not a cloud in sight

So off I went without sans umbrella or coat

although what I probably needed was really a boat

Caust the clouds came rolled in with a dragon’s roar

and shortly thereafter it bagan to pour

Not a pleasant rain, good for plant and flower

but a driving, unfriendly, cold hard icy shower

Now I was halfway between home and there

my makeup was running ruined and so was my hair

With no shelter in sight or a way to get dry

I put my head face in my hands and started to cry

When out of the shower rain a voice broke through,

“Hey D it’s me Clawd, hey D is that you?”

As I blinked through the tears and rain I could see

Clawdeen’s brother Clawd, waving at me

Across four lanes of traffic bravely he dashed

with umbrella in hand to my side he flashed

He led helped me back to his car warm and dry

said not a word till I’d finished my cry

“Here’s a hot coffinccino whip cream no foam,

it’ll warm you right up while I drive you home.”

From the car he walked me up to my door

protecting me still from the storm’s downpour

As he turned to leave I placed a kiss on his cheek

then I ran inside before he could speak.

And while I watched his car disappear from sight

I felt something happen change for me that night

No longer did I see him as just my best friend’s brother

that night, to me, he became something other.

The great thing about poetry is that it doesn’t have to be epic to express how you feel. Now I have to wonder, “Does he feel the same?”

#monster high #monster high diary #draculaura #wave 2

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fragmentedink-archived · 5 years ago

Text

Hell to Pay: Part Forty

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

A/N: hey how about that! there’s no trigger warnings to look out for in this chapter :’)

Amara leaned against the bedroom doorway where Nik was staying. “Good afternoon, sleeping beauty.”

Nik rolled over, squinting at her. “You’re still alive.”

“What, a few days of nothing but Cameron supposed to kill me?” Amara snorted, and flopped down on the bed beside him.

“The fact he hasn’t killed you in your sleep says something.”

“Says he needs someone to take care of before he turns into a literal skeleton, is all. But if I said that to him, he wouldn’t let me stay, now would he?” She plopped a bag beside Nik. “I brought you a gift, and it wasn’t a conversation about your alpha’s issues.”

“And what’s in the bag?”

Amara opened it. “All the supplies we’d need to cut and dye your hair back to it’s former glory. I even brought you plenty of colors to choose from if you want something new and funky.” Amara patted his head.

Nik wrinkled his nose at her. “Have you ever cut hair?”

“Yeah, sure I have.” Amara grinned. “Or I wouldn’t offer to cut yours, you peacock. This is how I know you’re related to Nate, you know.”

“If you’re suggesting Nate would let you cut his hair, he’d break your fingers,” Nik said.

“Oh, no.” Amara gave a laugh. “I’m saying you’re both vain.”

Nik had the balls to look offended at that. “Pot meet kettle,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all pretty little birds. Now get pick some colors so we can go make you look presentable again.”

Nik glared at her, but sat up and started to rifle through the bag. “Were you expecting to dye my hair rainbow? I’m not Nate.” He eventually settled on a deep emerald green. “Here. This.”

“Good choice.” Amara pushed at him. “Now to the bathroom we go. It’s time for aggressive bonding to make up for the not being friends for months.”

Nik grumbled at her as she bullied him into the bathroom. She fully expected it when he went for the window, pushing it open. Amara set up on the clippers and dye while he got settled, and then turned to Nik.

“Put your pretty butt on the toilet so I can get to clipping,” She said.

“Make me,” Nik said petulantly.

“I will shave your head,” she threatened, waving the clippers in his direction. Her threats were empty, and she was sure he’d know it, but what was friendship if not a little bit of consensual bullying?

“Shave my head, and I’ll drink all your booze,” Nik retorted.

“Don’t have any. Reneé dumped it before she moved out, and I didn’t buy any more. Find a scarier threat or sit down so I can make you pretty again.”

Nik squinted at her, but eventually plopped down on the toilet. She hummed, pleased, and went to work. It was nice, being close to Nik again, and she knew, while he was here at Nate’s, someone was keeping an eye on him. Not that Cameron wasn’t, but Cameron was grieving too, in his own way. That might be impossible for Cameron to admit, but Amara knew it was true.

Nik sat through the trimming and the bleaching and the dyeing silently. She was gentle, and let him have his silence, even though the whole process took hours. Once or twice Nate popped in, but Amara didn’t call him out on his fretting. Nate had every right to be worried, even if Nik was in very good hands.

Nate poked his head in as Amara was finishing up. She turned off the dryer, and turned Nik around. “Well?” Amara asked. “What do you think? I do good?”

Nate looked Nik over, and then said with a smile, “He looks great.”

“I always look great,” Nik muttered.

“Yeah,” Amara said, running her hands through Nik’s hair carefully. “You do.”

Nik pursed his lips. “Don’t flirt with me.”

“Oh, Nate can compliment you, but when I do, it’s flirting?” Amara scoffed. “You of all people should know the difference between my flirting and my flirting.” She thought about ruffling his hair, messing it up, but instead she stood and started cleaning up her mess. “I should probably go. Cameron’s probably not gonna be happy if I miss dinner.”

Nik shot her an amused look. “Are you going to start calling him daddy too?”

“No,” Amara said. “But someone needs to keep him on his schedule, or he’s useless to me.”

Nik looked down at the floor. She squeezed his shoulder.

“Hey. He’s doing fine. But i’m also not gonna risk getting kicked out tonight.” She turned to Nate. “Get him in some sun. I don’t wanna see a day where I’m more tan than he is.” As if that were possible, but she really did worry about him cooping up in bed too long.

---

It had been several days now that Ash couldn't keep anything in his stomach. The dark magic cast that had clearly been a failure, had been soaked into the earth and he had spent the entire time in a cold sweat and vomiting his guts up regularly. It was only now that his body gave him a break.

He went to find Nate, who was holed up in his art studio. "So, I'm not currently dying," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "Wanna see if Lev's soul got shredded in that shitshow of a spell?"

Nate looked at him with a tired, irritated look, putting down his barely used paintbrush. “Tactful as always, Ash,” he sighed. “But, yes. If you’re up for it. I don’t want you dying on me. I’d rather not have another ghost haunting me. Especially you. Then I’d never get any sleep.”

Ash ignored that particular dig. “Then let’s get moving. The sooner we get any kind of confirmation, the sooner this ludacris business will be over with and I can move on with my pain-free life.”

Nate got up from his stool and moved to the center of the room to a paint splattered rug and sat cross legged. Ash watched from the doorway and he could taste the dark magic in the air- dark magic, but not… dark magic. Death was a shadowy world and Nate’s magic had the ability to snuff out life, even after death- to leave a soul nothing more than a forgotten memory.

Nate sucked in a sharp breath, eyes snapping open when he felt… something, a spirit ripped into space, nearly crashing into the floor.

“Well,” Ash said, “I’m guessing that answers that question.”

Nate reached over, taking ahold of the spirit, bringing it to a physical form. “Are you alright?” Nate asked, tiredly.

“What- happened?” Lev asked.

“Tried to bring you back to life,” Ash said. “It failed, dark magic made me sick for a week. Nik got his hair dyed, Cameron fainted because he didn’t eat for over a month. You know, normal things.”

Lev looked to Nate. “Is it supposed to hurt? Like this?”

Nate lifted his shoulder in a helpless shrug. “I don’t know,” he said, quietly. “Your soul just- disappeared. I was worried it got shredded.”

“How long was I gone?” Lev asked.

“A week,” Nate said.

“Spent the whole time vomiting, but you know. Like I just said. Besides, is your soul intact? Do you feel… something missing at all?”

“I feel whole… it just hurts. But it doesn’t.” Lev stopped, and gave a hysterical laugh. “Phantom pain.”

That got an unexpected snort out of Ash. “Okay, puns are my thing,” he said, feeling an uptick of a smile on his face. “But as long as your soul is intact, I see no reason why Amara would stop trying to bring you back.”

“She probably won’t,” Lev said, sounding very, very tired.

“Do you want to come back at all?” Nate asked, quietly. “If you don’t, I will make her stop.”

“What I want and what i should do are two different subjects,” Lev said, after a pause.

“Well,” Nate said, with that legendary patience. “I didn’t ask you what you should do. I asked you what you wanted to do.”

Stars, he could really tell Nate was Bay’s mate. They were both annoyingly similar sometimes.

Lev looked to him, looking very guilty. “I want it.”

“Well,” Ash said, rubbing his temples. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“I wish it didn’t hurt you,” Lev said. “It would make my decision a lot easier.”

“Don’t stop on my behalf,” Ash said, tiredly. “The others haven’t. You might as well join the majority.”

“What- Lev?”

Ash froze at that voice, cursing himself for not being able to hear Nik. He was too damned good at being able to move around like a shadow. Nik was staring at Lev, wide eyed. “What’s going on? And why am I never told a single fucking thing about it.”

Lev looked at Nate, a little stricken. “I’m not supposed to talk to him,” he said, almost a plea to not tell Bay; to not get in trouble with him.

“Yeah well,” Nik said, “Fuck what Bay says. He can get in line after you talk to me because everyone seems to get to talk to you except for me.”

“That would be because you’ve been a wasted train wreck who has been suicidal and nonstop drunk for the last four months while also taking heavy drugs, and oh yeah, overdosing on said drugs. So forgive me for not wanting to watch you have yet another emotional breakdown when your boyfriend must once again disappear into Ghost Land.”

“Ash,” Nate chastised.

Ash ignored him and kept his attention on Nik. “Be pissed all you want, but you know you would have gone even further off the deep end if we told you and you fucking know it.” When Nik looked moments from snapping back, Ash said, coolly, “Do not forget, I know when you’re lying.”

Lev gave such a quiet, “Ash please” that even he could barely hear.

Ash cut Lev a look. “Am I wrong?”

“No, but yelling isn’t going to make anything better.” Lev said. “It’s just hurting people.”

“Yes, hello,” Nik snapped. “You all seemed to have forgotten I am in this damned room and I am tired of everyone ignoring me and my wants. But hey, at least we’re all treading around me like I’m some delicate flower who needs their hand held. Lev. Talk to me.”

Lev slowly looked at him. “They didn’t tell me you dyed your hair green. It looks nice.”

“It’s queer coding for Nik is a train wreck,” Ash replied. “However, yes. It does look nice.”

Nik smiled just a little bit. “Four months and the first thing you tell me is my hair looks nice? I always look nice.”

Well, that was a lie, but whatever.

“Yeah but it’s a new nice. I haven’t seen green streaks in your hair before,” Lev said, to Nik.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Nik said. “Almost went for orange but… i don’t want that clashing with my skin… and my aesthetic… can’t ruin it. Won’t do it.”

“I think you would look very nice with orange streaks,” Lev said, loyally.

“Oh I’m sure you would,” Nik said, his smile growing just a little bit more. “Cameron, however, would not think your opinions on the matter are valid, considering you wear jorts. So.”

Nate had winced at that. Clearly Nate was on the same fashion spectrum as Ash and Cameron seemed to be.

“You’re bullying me again,” Lev said, petulantly, returning Nik’s small smile.

“Mmm. Am I?” Lev laughed a lil at that. He looked happy. Nik looked a shadow of it, not quite, but not the void he was. Somewhere in the middle. Somewhere between dead and alive. “Did- are you alone? Just watching us?”

“I have company,” he said. “Nate talks to me. I’ve been trying to not hover so much. It seemed to make you agitated.”

Nik’s face fell, seeming to fold in on itself. His scent changed, soured almost. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice more echo than true words.

Lev looked so guilty. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “I needed the space to think anyway.” When Nik didn’t say anything, Lev added, “Coming back is… complicated.”

Nik began picking at his bracelets and seemed to struggle with what to say. Nate looked to Ash meaningfully, and Ash chose this particular time to once again paint himself as the bad guy. “Alright,” he said, pushing off the doorframe. “I think visitation time is over. Lev tell your boyfriend goodbye.”

“Are you okay with that?” Lev asked Nik.

Nik’s breath was too shallow, and Ash didn’t think Nik was going to answer at all. Especially when he was still picking at his bracelets. He could tell Nik’s blood pressure was rising and he was going to damn well fight an anxiety attack to keep himself in this room with Lev. “No,” Nik said, tightly.

“Lev,” Ash said, sharply.

Lev looked from him back to Nik. “If you need me, Nate can get me.”

Nik didn’t say anything, Ash wasn’t sure he was capable of saying anything. The only response Nik had was blinking hard, tears slipping down his cheeks. He wiped them away harshly and turned on his heel, pushing past Ash and disappearing down the hall.

“I fucked up again, didn’t I?” Lev said.

“No,” Ash said. “Nik. Is grieving. You didn’t do anything.”

He didn’t wait for anything else from either Nate or Lev before disappearing after Nik. He found Nik in the kitchen and grabbed his arm before he tried looking for what he always did. “You. Cannot. Drink.”

Nik whipped around and glared at him. “And why not?”

“Because I said so?” When Nik tried arguing with him, Ash said, “Alright. How about because your alpha said so and one step out of line means you don’t get to go home. Nik. Please. Let’s go outside. Beach, maybe?”

Nik’s face fell faintly, but it was enough Nik stopped fighting him on it. He wiped at his face again. “Fine. But you’re buying me lunch.”

“Fine,” Ash said, relieved.

“Wherever I want.”

“Deal.”

----

Sorin poked his head in Cyrus’ study. It was even more a wreck than before. Where it’s chaos had been confined to the desk, now books lay scattered on the floor, and Cyrus was sprawled over piles of notes.

For days Cyrus had been cooped up, going over his notes repeatedly. Sorin had barely been able to drag him to bed. He was about ready to do so again, now, but watching Cyrus work, brow furrowed in thought as he chewed on a ring absently, made Sorin pause.

“I’ve stayed up too late again, haven’t I?” Cyrus finally said, looking up.

“A bit.”

Cyrus hummed, and then went back to staring at his notes.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Sorin offered with a wheedling tone. “I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow if you go to bed soon. Like, now soon.”

“That seems rather unfair. I get up earlier, and I cook the oatmeal better.” Cyrus smiled down at his books. “You’re going to have to offer better if you want a deal.”

Sorin snorted, but before he could figure out what to offer, Cyrus snapped his head up. Before he could process it, Cyris jumped up and kissed Sorin, hard. “You angry ginger genius,” Cyrus said, ruffling Sorin’s curls.

“I’m confused,” Sorin said. “What did I do?”

“Well,” Cyrus corrected. “I’m the genus, but you brought the inspiration.” He wandered to the desk, and pulled out a piece of paper. He scribbled a quick, ‘I have the solution. Bring Amara, either tonight or tomorrow’, and sent the paper away with a flutter of magic. “We need a better deal.”

---

Cameron had allowed AMara access to the front seat, provided she keep her mouth shut. He had the windows up for once, faint music playing, but that didn’t seem to stop her from sitting ramrod stiff like Nik did, except she was holding onto the safety bar.

“Would you like me to roll down the windows?” he finally asked, mildly.

“Won’t do anything, it’ll be fine,” she said. “I trust you to not crash the car.”

He did not want to sit next to this halfway panicked omega while he drove. “If you trusted that, then you wouldn’t be holding on for dear life,” he said. “What do you normally do to stop acting neurotic?”

“My instincts don’t always line up with logic,” she said. “Normally I drink, but I can’t do that right now. This is why I drive a motorcycle.”

“You have been in this car several times,” Cameron said. “And against my will at that. What do you do then?”

“Talk to Nik.”

“Then call him,” Cameron said, in a bored tone, digging out his phone, unlocking it, and dropping it in her lap. “I trust you to know his number by now.”

Amara did as told and called Nik. “What are you doing?”

“Amara?” he heard Nik, say a little bewildered. “...Why do you have Cameron’s phone. Oh stars, tell me you didn’t actually kill him.”

Cameron rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t tell Cameron I didn’t like riding in cars in silence,” Amara said, “And he doesn’t like talking to me.”

“Don’t like your voice, either,” Cameron said. “We must all make sacrifices.”

“Okay, but Cameron doesn’t like anyone,” Nik pointed out, not able to hear Cameron’s response.

“Just tell me what you’re doing,” Amara told Nik. “Distract me.”

Nik was quiet on the other line, just for a few seconds before, “Ash promised me the ocean. And food. I’m fucking hungry and apparently I’ve barely eaten in the last few days.”

Cameron sighed irritably. Maybe he should have nailed it into Nate’s head to make sure he fed his idiot brother as well. This is what he got for assuming Nate had common sense.

“I’d say I’d come and join you after we’re done, but you know how much I hate the ocean.”

“Well I didn’t say you had to swim, Mar,” Nik said, sounding petulant. “And just Ash keeping me company is going to make me drown myself. He’s trying to mom me.”

“You need to be momed,” Amara said. “You’ve been a wreck.”

“Okay, then come play the role of mami if you’re going to be like that,” Nik said, with the smallest hint of a smile in his tone. “Otherwise I’m going to slip the leash again.”

“I need you to hang in there,” Amara said. “I’ll be around more soon, I promise. I’m sure there’s something fun we can do that doesn’t involve alcohol.”

He heard Nik groan loudly at the other end of the line. “How soon,” he asked. “I’m all twitchy and you’re the only person i fucking know who doesn’t bother lying to me.”

“After I’m done with my field trip with Cameron, I’ll come over,” Amara said. She paused before adding, “Unless something dramatic comes up. Everything seems drama lately.”

“Fine,” Nik said. “We’ll be at the beach. Don’t forget sunscreen for your delicate skin. If you forget, we already brought some for Ash.”

“I’m offended,” Amara said. “My side of the family doesn’t burn. Well. Reneé does, but that’s because she’s a ginger.”

He could hear Ash scoff in the background.

“Mhmm,” Nik said. “I’m sure.”

They came up to the house settled in the woods. “We’re here. Tell Nikolas goodbye, Amara.”

“I gotta go Saint Nikolas,” Amara said. “Stay out of trouble and I’ll let you punch me for calling you that.”

Nik retorted something, but it was cut off as Cameron took the phone from her. “Behave,” Cameron said. “I’ll stop by later.” And with that he hung up and got out of the car.

He didn’t bother waiting for Amara to catch up with him before walking into the house and going straight to the study where Cyrus was waiting. “You summoned me?” Cameron asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“We didn’t offer anything in exchange.”

“Consider me shocked,” Cameron said. “Did you have something in mind? I’m sure Death doesn’t take monetary payment.”

“I figure it’s fair to give Death a life for a life,” Cyrus said. “Kill the man who killed him.”

“That would be my brother,” Cameron said.

“Well it’s not like Cameron’s going to do it,” Amara said. “When do you need him?”

When Cameron didn’t offer any input, Cyrus said, “I need to come with you. So I’d rather we wait until tomorrow, at the very least. I need to contain his soul so we can use it in the spell.”

“Anything else?” Cameron asked, mildly.

“Are you feeling up to helping me cast the spell?”

“I said I would,” Cameron clipped out.

“I didn’t ask if you would, I asked if you could.” Cyrus said. “I won’t do it unless you’re healthy enough to.”

“Well here I am,” Cameron said. “The picture of health. Anything else?”

“Is there anything we need to change about the spell? Setting wise? Process wise? Is there anyone else that needs to be present?”

“It will be done at my house,” Cameron said. “Nik will not be there. Neither will Nate or Amara, They’re both going to keep Nik away from here. Ash will be there to make sure his body is functioning, as neither you nor Sorin are healers, and Sazra is a demonic healer and Lev’s body will likely be too delicate to withstand demonic healing. Anything else you need to know?”

Cyrus shook his head. “Let me know when you guys plan on killing Destris so I can join you.”

Cameron picked at a nail, but nodded and turned on his heel and went to the car. He heard Amara behind him, and before she could start on her tirade, he said, “Backseat.”

“You’re not even going to discuss what I, a full grown adult, am going to do? I don’t mind keeping an eye on Nik, but you didn’t even ask.”

“No, I am not,” Cameron said, stopping at his car and looking her squarely in the eye. “As you keep reminding me, I am Lev’s alpha. You are not. Cyrus contacted me, and not you, making this my problem, and not yours. And since this will be done at my house, with my omega, you are going to listen to me, and if you do not, I will physically restrain you and keep you from stepping foot near me, Nik or Lev until everything is well done and finished. Understand?”

When she did not respond to him, Cameron got into the driver's seat and waited for her to obey him and get in the back. Only when she did, did he hear her mutter under her breath about this being her idea. Might have been her idea, but as soon as she opened her mouth, and her idea fai9led the first round, Cameron was taking it into his hands and not leaving this in the hands of an impulsive child who can babysit Nik for him while he made sure this went smoothly. “I will not be with you when you kill Destris,” Cameron said, pulling the car out onto the road. “And when you watch Nik, do not let him drink. Ash is very insistent on it.”

“I know.”

“You will call me when it is done,” Cameron said, flicking her a look through the mirror. “And I will make the necessary arrangements. I trust you can kill a demon without someone holding your hand.”

“Destris would be dead within twenty-four hours,” she said. “Do you want proof?”

Cameron thought about that for a few minutes, quiet and not saying anything. “No,” he said, “I do not.”

---

Nik laid out on the sand, eyes closed while he took in the sun, the sounds of the ocean and the people around him. Even with the beach swarmed, and with Ash next to him, he still felt eerily alone. And almost like the perfect timing did his phone buzz with a text from Amara.

Mar: Hey, a job came up, but if you still need me, I’ll come

Nik thought about it. However, he had the feeling if she did show up, her brain would be elsewhere and it wouldn’t even be like she was there to begin with. Might as well let her get on her way so she could pretend like she was actually there.

Nik: It’s fine. Do your thing

He put his phone back down and folded his hands over his stomach, closing his eyes. He felt Ash sit down next to him. “Do you want to swim?”

Nik was silent for a few moments. “No, I don’t think I want to. Just sit here and not think for a while.”

Ash settled in the sand next to him and Nik looked over, raking his eyes over Ash’s frame. “You going to put on that sunscreen so your pale ass doesn’t fry?”

Ash cut him a glare, and made a point about how he settled with his eyes closed. “I’ll heal. Still want to get something to eat afterwards?”

“Yeah,” Nik said. “Withdrawal has been a pain in my ass so I’m trying to get something in my stomach.”

“Probably wise,” Ash hummed, slipping his fingers in Nik’s hair, pulling it out of his closed eyes. “Anywhere you’re wanting to go in particular?”

“Guelaguetza, I think,” Nik said. “Miss being able to taste my food.”

“Whatever you want,” Ash said.

“You’re being suspiciously accommodating,” Nik observed, sneaking a peek at him.

Ash twitched his mouth to the side, looking a little amused. “Well, I did say you could choose. And since you’re not being a pain in my ass at this particular moment of time, I thought I would give you a treat for behaving.”

“Hmmm. Fine.”

“Mhmm,” Ash said, settling back down in the sand with a heavy sigh. “Fine indeed.”

----

The restaurant was full of color and food and sounds. Nik seemed pleased to be here, even if they did have a rather long wait. Nik seemed happy enough and that was worth the time spent waiting for a table. The happy chatter around them was filled with laughter and the lovely waitress brought menus for both Nik and Ash.

He had Nik order his food for him since Ash had no idea what to get, but Nik seemed to know exactly what he would want. Nik traced lines into the brightly colored floral print decorating the tables, humming a song Ash didn’t know under his breath. It had been- quite some time since he heard anything like that from Nik.

Their food was brought out to them and Nik happily started digging into his food. Ash started on his own, and he was surprised there was only a faint burn in his mouth. Nik gave him an amused, dry look. “I got the mild. Just for you.”

“I’m touched,” Ash deadpanned.

“Anything for you, vato,” Nik said, with a sickening sweetness.

Ash rolled his eyes, but watched him carefully while Nik ate. After a few minutes, Nik closed his eyes, looking away from his food. “You alright?” Ash asked, mildly, taking a bite from his food.

“I think I ate too much, too fast,” Nik said, pushing his plate back just a bit. He seemed to wait, to see if his stomach would settle, but then abruptly got up and disappeared to the back.

A waitress seemed concerned and asked Ash if his friend was okay; if there was something wrong with the food.

“No,” Ash said. “It’s perfect. He’s just not feeling himself.”

She smiled at him, tan face bright and dark eyes sparkling. “I hope he feels well soon.”

Ash had the feeling Nik would not be feeling well any time soon, but he still offered her the same smile in return. “I hope so, too.”

Tagging: @incandescent-creativity @idreamonpaper @solangelo3088 @halstudies @alittleyellowdinosaur @caelisis

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #hell to pay #ch: cameron #ch: ash #ch: nik #ch: Nate

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